Rewind
by Reign of Rayne
Summary: Eight years of war, thousands of deaths, all in the conflict against Aizen. After a narrow victory, Ichigo desperately tries to keep the peace while Urahara locks himself away in his lab. Six months later, Urahara comes out with a declaration that could change history - literally. Spoilers for Ichigo's abilities, no pairings, time travel. ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

_SO technically I said in my other Bleach story that I wouldn't be uploading this for a while. Well, since I'm procrastinating my homework right now, I lied. However, **please note that I will not be updating this story for a long time**, I just felt like getting the first chapter up to see if it would get a positive reaction._

**_Disclaimer for the whole story: I do not own Bleach._**

* * *

Chapter 1

Six months. Six long months since the monster that was Aizen fell to my blade.

Six months that felt like six years but couldn't come close to what the eight years of the war against Aizen felt like. Those were a constant, undeniable and inescapable Hell. If Soul Society hadn't managed to seal off the World of the Living from the spiritual realms almost entirely, it probably would've been destroyed.

That didn't stop my family and my friends from being killed in Soul Society. Aizen, the bastard, targeted my weaknesses first. My dad— my dad managed to save Karin and Yuzu, and Orihime and Uryū and Chad escaped to the Seireitei, but Karakura Town was damn hear obliterated when it was supposed to be safe in Soul Society.

Now that I think about it, that's probably how Aizen made his King's Key. I hadn't been paying much attention at the time, because I was unconscious.

After Mugetsu hadn't been enough to stop Aizen from mutating yet again (he called it "evolving"; I called it "horrifying"), the self-proclaimed traitor waged war on all of Soul Society, destroying Karakura while I struggled to retain what little power I had left.

Then Urahara Kisuke, somehow, using methods I'd never understand, got the Gotei Thirteen Lieutenants and Captains to pour their Reiatsu into a bladeless sword, which, when Rukia stabbed me with it, somehow restored my powers.

The theme of "getting stabbed to get stronger" was really not something I was fond of.

Even then, I couldn't get strong enough fast enough to stop Aizen from going to the Soul King Palace. The Zero Division kicked him out, of course, because the traitor hadn't been expecting them to be as powerful as they were. In the time Aizen took to recover, the Zero Division took Renji, Rukia, (for some reason) Byakuya, and me in.

I still remembered when they broke Tensa Zangetsu. I'd been devastated (and angry until they explained that it wasn't my _real_ sword), but that was nothing compared to how I felt when I discovered my heritage. My dad . . . the smile on his face when I told him thanks, when I smiled at him, is still the first image to come to mind when I think of him.

The stupid idiot sacrificed himself so that I could get a little more training in at the Soul King Palace, and I only talked to him in his dying moments, but even then my resolve to kill Aizen had hardened into tempered steel.

With new resolve and a new alliance with my inner hollow (who was actually my Shinigami abilities, but that was irrelevant) and my Quincy powers, I went after Aizen with a vengeance.

Half the Soul King Palace was torn to shreds with all the power that was released. I'm not sure what happened to the Zero Division; one second we were fighting, the next I was back in Soul Society with a very freaky-looking Aizen and a confused Byakuya (though he didn't show it), Renji, and Rukia.

Later, Kisuke told me that the Spirit King may have interfered, but I have my doubts.

Either way, it took eight years of fighting in Soul Society and Hueco Mundo to bring Aizen down. Uryū went first, then Orihime, then Chad. They all died in the end, even Rukia when she saw Captain Ukitake get caught by his sickness at the worst possible moment.

Her bankai was incredible for the little time she was able to use it.

At some point during the confusion, when I was around seventeen or eighteen, I felt myself die. Not my Shinigami self, but my human body. Whatever had been sustaining it in the world of the living had stopped. It had been the strangest feeling, to know that I was dead. For once, I was actually a Shinigami, not a human. My aging slowed practically to a stop after that, making me look practically eighteen for the rest of the war and the six months after. If I tried, I could probably pass off as sixteen, or even fifteen, but that would require erasing a _lot_ of expression from my eyes, things that were communicated without words that naturally shaped the way other people estimated your age.

Then the war took over and the novelty of dying faded away, taking everything else about the World of the Living along with it.

Aizen, in the final year of war—he knew he was losing, but didn't care—hunted Orihime and Uryū in Soul Society. Somehow, he found them.

He destroyed their souls right in front of me.

I snapped, then, going on a rampage. I don't remember much; according to Kisuke, I'd hollowfied completely and decimated Aizen's forces, making the man himself retreat.

All I knew was that Chad's soul was still out there somewhere. It was almost fitting that he was the only one of my friends to apparently survive the Winter War. Solid, steady Chad.

Our close bond only made it hurt more.

So, after the war was over—and I managed to gather the scattered remains of the Gotei Thirteen and get them in some semblance of order—I searched for Chad whenever possible, exploring as much of the Rukongai as I could.

One of these days, I vowed, I would find him. I promised I would.

* * *

I was about to go on another search for Chad, one of hundreds if not more that all amounted to the same failure (dammit Chad I have to find you, I _need _you), when Kisuke burst into the room looking like the doors of Hell were opening behind him.

Kisuke. I'd been on a first-name basis with him since the second month of the war, back when we still had hope. Actually, I guess we had hope the whole time; that's why we kept on fighting.

We. The all-encompassing we. The "forces united against Aizen" we.

Now it was just Kisuke and I. There was no more "we". It was just us. The survivors.

Everyone called us the heroes of the Winter War, the two men who beat Aizen.

We didn't beat Aizen.

Aizen lost, sure, but we didn't beat him.

Nobody won the Winter War. There were no victors. Nobody "beat" anyone. Aizen. Just. Lost. Kisuke and I just happened to be the two strongest survivors; I knew there were other wrecked Shinigami out there, doomed to be haunted by the Winter War for the rest of their days. Even as I clamped down on my emotions to stop from going insane, I felt bad about not being able to help them. Kisuke shut himself away even more than I did, something that didn't surprise me.

So when Kisuke opened his mouth for the first time in six months (he'd sworn an oath after Yoruichi died in a battle; the Flash Goddess had actually managed to rip one of Aizen's arms off before she was gone for good), I knew something was up.

He stopped, panting, in front of my desk, not seeming to notice that his sudden appearance had nearly caused me to draw Zangetsu out of sheer reflex.

"I did it."

Those three words were like a shot of fire into my veins. I knew what Kisuke was talking about; he'd shown me the plans, and though I had tried to be supportive, in the back of my mind I had always believed that Kisuke was doomed to failure.

A time machine, Kisuke? I had asked, so tired and weary the sheer ridiculousness of the idea hadn't hit me, wouldn't hit me until two months later when Kisuke shut himself inside the remains of the twelfth division and wouldn't come out for anything.

I'd thought he was dead, but I was so damned busy trying to stop the survivors from killing each other that I never checked anything but his spiritual pressure.

I did that. Every day. Sometimes every hour. Because if Kisuke was gone, there was no way in hell I was sticking around for long, not if I couldn't find Chad, not if everyone I cared about was gone—

Yes, he had replied, though he had done so through the expression on his face. At that point, he didn't speak. I hadn't expected him to speak ever again. Not after Yoruichi was ripped apart in front of him—

No. I can't think about that. Can't think about everyone I didn't protect. I can't, I can't, I can't, I _won't_.

"What—?" I started, running a hand through my neck-length hair in a nervous gesture I'd picked up at some point in the past few nerve-wracking months. Some of the bangs hung between and over my eyes, but they didn't bother me. I'd gotten used to them, because there was no way I was going to take a break just to get a damn haircut.

I didn't even know if it was still possible to _get_ a haircut; the Seireitei was in shambles, even after all the time I'd been spending trying to get the place back in order.

The fact that half the Rukongai had been destroyed during the fighting wasn't helping.

But Kisuke didn't let me finish. He grabbed my arm in a grip that was surprisingly strong and yanked me out of my seat. We were out the door before I even registered that his hand was holding my wrist, and by the time the thought to shake him off crossed my mind Kisuke was already flash-stepping across rooftops towards where the Twelfth Division's labs were. Well, the remaining labs. Most of them were just smoking ruins now, and thanks to Mayuri no one wanted to step foot in any place that hadn't been declared absolutely nontoxic.

I let Kisuke pull me; I was easily stronger than him, had been for years, because I'd _needed_ to be. Now he was desperate to show me _his_ strength, and so I let him drag me along, even though it felt as though my arm was going to be pulled from its socket.

The switch from sunlight to artificial light was so sudden that I didn't notice until Kisuke finally stopped, panting slightly, in a large room. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust, until I recognized the space as Kisuke's lab.

"There," Kisuke whispered, his voice shaky from disuse. I followed his finger and saw what looked like a giant rectangle covered in shockingly white pages of paper. However, as Kisuke strode forward—the way he was suddenly confident made my chest ache because he was so close to _normal_ it hurt—black suddenly striped across the pages, until the rectangle was so densely covered in writing it blended in with the wall behind it.

"Kisuke . . ." I started, not sure what to say. What could I say? The only friend I had left said he'd built a goddamn _time machine_, which could reverse everything—

_Yuzu screamed my name, her voice cracking as Aizen held her by the throat, his body so grotesque it hurt to look at, and blood was running everywhere and where the hell was Karin I couldn't see her and there was so much blood—_

"Ichigo?"

Kisuke's voice snapped me out of the flashback, and I realized I'd been gripping the handle of Zangetsu; at least, the blade at my waist. The other Zangetsu was slung over my back, wrapped in white, bandage-like material that always appeared, seemingly out of thin air, when I wasn't using the blade.

I used the blade too much.

Thinking of how I'd gotten the dual Zangetsus brought up painful memories of the battle at the Soul King Palace and I forced those images back into the box in my mind, slamming the lid and locking it. I knew it wasn't healthy, but I couldn't bring myself to give a damn. Mental health could come later, when all of Soul Society wasn't going to shit.

But, if Kisuke had actually succeeded . . .

"I'm okay," I managed, wincing as my voice actually cracked. Kisuke was the only person who knew just how much strain I was under, and he was the only person to whom I actually showed weakness. With everyone else, I plastered on a cool, emotionless mask.

Either that, or I terrified the hell out of them. Either one was preferable to the way my throat was clenching tightly, strangling my breathing and making me gasp slightly.

After thirty seconds of Kisuke putting his hand on my shoulder – letting me know he was there and that I was safe (because how many sleepless nights had I spent in Hueco Mundo trying to stop Aizen's armies from slaughtering innocent Shinigami only to realize they were all dead anyway?) – I finally calmed down enough to resume my mask.

"Thanks, Kisuke," I muttered, taking my hand off the jet-black trench knife at my waist.

"Ichigo."

I glanced up, realizing that Kisuke wasn't interested in any more comfort. His eyes were hard. I knew instinctively what he was going to ask, and I felt a flood of different emotions surge through me. In an instant, I'd clamped down on them and shoved them back into that box, allowing me to think clearly.

"I'll do it, Kisuke. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure Aizen—to make sure that _this_ never happens."

Kisuke grinned at me; it was a pale imitation of his former smirk, but it was better than the empty look he'd carried before. "Good. Because I'm not strong enough to go through there."

I blinked. "You're not coming?"

When Kisuke replied, he was dead serious. "If I went through there, Ichigo, I'd get ripped apart. The portal is designed to go back in time; think of it as wading through the restrictive current in the Dangai. It's designed to tear you apart."

"You wouldn't send me in there if it was going to kill me."

"You're strong enough where that won't happen," Kisuke affirmed, glancing back at his creation as if to make sure that it was still there, that he wasn't dreaming. It pained me to see him like this, but when he turned back to me there was a steely glint of determination in his eyes. "If you go through at full power, you should come out the other side with your body and powers intact."

"Should?"

That small, broken smile returned. "No promises, Ichigo."

I glanced back at the rectangle affixed to the far wall. If Kisuke couldn't make it, then no one else could.

Not even Chad.

I frowned pensively, running through hundreds of scenarios in my mind. If I needed to be at full power, then I would need to undo the seal I'd placed on myself after the war. It was similar to a Gentei Reiin, and its power was held in the shape of a black crescent moon, about the side of an eye, over my heart. I could release it without words; I'd practiced until I could. There was no telling if another Aizen could appear, and I was not going to be caught unprepared.

I smiled wryly, looking up at the time portal (the thought widened my smile slightly). Apparently all the training I'd been doing in the past months was actually going to pay off a lot sooner than I was expecting.

"Give me a day, Kisuke," I said, turning to face my old friend. "I need that long to . . ." I couldn't finish, but Kisuke knew what I meant.

If I wasn't prepared to see everyone alive again—because I trusted that Kisuke's invention would work (it had to)—every emotion in that box would come pouring out and I wouldn't even be able to say my own damn name without wanting to scream.

"Meet me here in twenty-four hours," Kisuke said, and we clasped hands. There was so much I wanted to say, but I summed it up in one word.

"Thanks."

There was nothing else to say. Kisuke nodded, and I went out of the lab, using Shunpo simply to stretch my muscles. I kept going, past the broken walls of the Seireitei—I'd wanted to get those fixed, eventually, just so they could go back to the Soul King's dimension, if it wasn't still sealed off—past the known districts of the Rukongai, moving at speeds that not even Yoruichi could match because I blended Shunpo and Sonido and it made the world just _blur_.

The speed was intoxicating, but eventually I stopped in a clearing, deep in a stretch of woods, one of the few that hadn't been leveled during my final battle with Aizen.

I remembered thinking after the final battle, as the dust slowly cleared from the air, that I'd probably destroyed Soul Society.

I remembered not caring.

The clearing was peaceful, and the sun cast shifting shadows through the branches of the trees at the edges. Wildflowers bloomed in the grasses, adding splashes of color to the dominant greenery. Carefully, I sat in the middle of the space, lying my large Khyber knife and trench knife—my Zangetsus—across my lap and taking a deep breath. The breeze played across my bare skin, exposed because my Shihakushō was ripped up to the shoulders and I'd never bothered to get a different look. It exposed the tattoos going across my forearms, black markings that came with my Shikai. Another x-shaped band stretched across my chest, also slightly visible.

Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes and breathed, focusing my energy on the swords across my lap and allowing my Reiatsu to flow into them, until I left Soul Society behind.

I blinked, taking in the cloudy sky from my position on the side of a blue skyscraper.

**"HA!"**

A white version of Zangetsu—the large Khyber blade—stopped millimeters from my neck, held in place by the black and white guard that wrapped around my neck, another souvenir of my Shikai release.

I didn't react, instead turning to face the wielder of the blade with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown. This was followed closely by a heavily sarcastic, "_really_?"

A white copy of me, identical in every single way except color, withdrew his sword and sheathed it across his back, allowing the blade to be held there by the white chain that was woven into his white Shihakushō, nearly invisible, exactly like the one in mine except that mine was black.

**"C'mon, King," **Zangetsu drawled, grinning. **"This is the first time you've been here in weeks!"**

"Not to mention that you blocked us from communicating with you," another, deeper baritone added. I turned slightly and saw the manifestation of my Quincy abilities—the _other_ Zangetsu—standing on a flagpole a few meters away. I didn't miss the reproach in his voice.

"I'm sorry about that," I said quietly. "I just . . . needed some time to think."

Zangetsu snorted. **"Right. You _got_ yer time, King. You gotta face facts eventually."**

"He is correct," Old Man Zangetsu concurred. I blinked.

"Sorry."

**"Che. Idiot."**

Zangetsu didn't look particularly offended; we'd had this weird kind of friendship (it ran so much deeper than that, but I couldn't describe it any other way) during the war, and it had only solidified as the truth about my abilities was revealed. Now, we were practically the same being.

If you didn't count that he was technically a hollow and that he had somewhat homicidal tendencies, of course.

"You heard everything that Kisuke said, right?" I asked, taking a seat on the skyscraper. I missed the sun in my inner world, but frankly it was lucky for me that it wasn't pouring. It had taken me a solid two months of meditation just to feel calm again to the point where I could speak with someone without feeling my emotions come pouring to the surface.

"Of course," Old Man Zangetsu said, staring down at me. "You may have blocked us from your mind, but we can still hear and see through you."

Zangetsu waved a hand in his other's direction as he lay down on the building's surface, not bothering to say anything out loud.

I took a deep breath, for once wondering why I'd shut myself away from these two. They were _me_, right? They were pieces of my soul.

Then again, I hadn't really been thinking rationally after I defeated Aizen.

In the distance, thunder rumbled dangerously. Zangetsu, who had been lying down on the building with his eyes closed for all of five seconds, cracked a single gold and black eye open to stare at me.

**"Cut it out, King," **he growled. **"Yer not getting' anywhere, thinking like that."**

"I know." I took a deep breath and then sighed, leaning back and imitating the position of my inner-hollow-turned-Shinigami-powers. Old Man Zangetsu, the embodiment of my Quincy powers, stood on his pole, staring down at me with an unreadable expression. I'd long since given up trying to figure out why he enjoyed doing the whole "standing on poles" thing.

There were bigger things to worry about.

There was another rumble of thunder, followed by a grumble from Zangetsu. **"King . . ."**

Despite the fact that we were supposed to be partners, he insisted on that title. Just like Old Man Zangetsu's obsession with standing on poles, Zangetsu wanted to stick with his titles.

"We will help you, Ichigo," Old Man Zangetsu said, his deep voice carrying to me easily. "You know that we will always stand by your side, no matter what."

I grinned tiredly, the expression feeling strange on my face after so long.

* * *

Feeling strangely calm, I headed back towards Kisuke's lab, Zangetsu slung over my back and sheathed at my waist. Theoretically, I could seal the blade, but during the war that had been a moot point even as I learned all I could about Reiatsu control to try and get an edge on Aizen only to find that control didn't do me any damn favors when my allies were massacred in front of me.

So I kept Zangetsu in Shikai.

Kisuke was already there, also strangely calm.

"Did you find him?" He asked quietly, knowing without needing to be told that I'd searched for Chad for almost the entire previous night after getting out of my inner world.

"No," I replied, taking a deep breath. "But . . . I'll fix this." My eyes met Kisuke's, and if he was surprised at the fact that they were glowing with blue resolve, he didn't show it. "Chad will never be lost in the first place."

Kisuke nodded, having made peace with what he was about to do a long time ago. He bustled around the room, activating dormant Kidō spells and making the previously still writing on the rectangular gate begin to shift and flicker with energy while he told me what I needed to do. I paid attention carefully, until Kisuke stopped in front of me.

"One shot, Ichigo," he warned.

"That's all I need."

We shook hands for the final time. I wasn't going to get this bond with Kisuke back, and I knew that. But it was something both of us were willing to sacrifice if it meant that others could be spared the same pain.

"Thank you for everything, Kisuke," I said. I meant _everything_; the Shattered Shaft, the training, the advice, everything that Kisuke had ever done for me. He smiled, genuinely. He still felt guilty about that, I knew, but I was determined to let him know that I was grateful for it, happy that I could protect everyone. Or at least try to.

"It was my pleasure, Ichigo."

And then we separated, everything we needed to say resolved in those few brief seconds. Kisuke signaled me from behind a barrier, and I took that as the sign to let my power loose. After making sure that Zangetsu and Old Man Zangetsu were ready, I released the seal on my power. New energy surged through my veins, but I kept a tight grip on it, shaping it. Without a word, I entered bankai, feeling the oversized Khyber knife that I'd drawn shift into a black daitō with a chain hanging off the hilt and a manji as the guard. The trench knife had seemingly disappeared, but I could feel it, armor beneath my Shihakushō, stronger than any Blut Vene.

Still my power grew, and winds whipped through the lab, kicking up dust and debris that spun in circles around me. I ignored that, allowing the chain of Tensa Zangetsu to wrap around my right arm, going up to the shoulder, stopping right at the ripped portion of my Shinigami robe as by powers merged together completely. The remaining chain segments hung down, and the manji that had made up the guard of Tensa Zangetsu expanded as the metal around Tensa Zangetsu's hilt wrapped around my hand in a kind of metal glove, going to just past my wrist.

Next came the hardest part, the transformation that had taken me two years to master to the point where it didn't almost kill me. It was the only state that allowed me to kill Aizen, and that was after nearly five years of constant training to be able to use it again after having it nearly kill me the first time. All that training, just so it wouldn't drain me of my powers completely.

There was a surge of black Reiatsu around me—_my_ Reiatsu—and Tensa Zangetsu melted entirely, becoming black, bandage-like material that wrapped around my chest and arm that slowly lightened to become gray, leaving my left arm bare save the black markings that wound around it, mimicking the pitch dark Reiatsu that was now leaking from my right arm. Without needing to look I knew that my hair had turned jet-black, and my eyes a bloody crimson. It had taken more effort than I cared to admit to stop my hair from growing every time I entered the Mugetsu state. I felt the gray material cover the lower half of my face, could feel it against my skin, and I knew it was finished.

Carefully, I stopped the Reiatsu from leaking from my right arm and focused it inward, until my power was a tightly maintained maelstrom inside of me. In this state, even I could barely control my power.

"Kisuke," I growled, clenching my hands into fists as the winds from my transformations faded, "now would be a great time."

There was a flash of light in the portal; without pausing, I leapt into it, going so fast that Urahara Kisuke, one of the most respected men I'd ever known, couldn't track me.

The tunnel was dark, suffocating. My power exploded out of me in a protective barrier as shadows I could barely comprehend reached for me, trying to drag me into an endless abyss. Shrieking noises echoed in the dark but I ignored them, sprinting as fast as possible without using Shunpo or Sonido. Both Zangetsus were fused with me, and I could feel their wordless and selfless support and I ran, focused on a dim light at the end. I remembered Kisuke's instructions: focus on a certain point and go there. Remember that, once you get out, you're going to be drained for a few hours, so try not to go somewhere where you might not get killed immediately.

He'd almost smiled after saying that.

And then I was reaching for the light—I took the briefest of seconds to reflect on the irony of the idea—there was flash, a burning heat that too my breath away, and then an all-consuming darkness that trapped me so completely I was unconscious before I even knew what happened.

* * *

Shihōin Yoruichi was a lot of things. Surprised was typically not one of these; as a former captain of the Second Division and Onmitsukidō, it took a lot to get any kind of reaction from the golden-eyed noble.

Recently, however, there was one thing—one person—that was surprising Yoruichi more than any other.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

After Abarai Renji had arrived at the secret training grounds and told Ichigo that Rukia's execution had been moved to noon the next day, Yoruichi had expected the boy to give up. The former captain was plagued by doubts; no matter what Kisuke said, there was no way that Kurosaki Ichigo could reach bankai in just three days, not with the way his spirit energy was growing.

But then Kurosaki had thrown that back in her face with newfound determination, smashing the blade he had to the hilt and declaring that, if finishing the next day was no longer an option, he'd finish today.

Abarai Renji had gone to a different corner of the training grounds with the manifested spirit of his Zanpakutō, leaving Ichigo and Zangetsu in peace.

Yoruichi had expected them to begin training again right away. However, something was hovering just beyond the edges of her senses. It was similar to the ominous feeling that the former captain had sensed before Abarai had appeared; however, this time it was even less defined.

But Ichigo and his Zanpakutō spirit seemed frozen in their tracks, even as Abarai's spiritual pressure went some distance away. From the noises coming from that direction, Abarai was engaged in combat of some sort.

So when Ichigo suddenly collapsed and his Zanpakutō spirit reverted back to the doll, Yoruichi was surprised.

Her first thought was, _is the training too much for him? But his spiritual pressure is still—!_

Then Reiatsu began gathering around the boy in circles, whipping up dust in a gradually building tornado of energy. The presence that Yoruichi had sensed increased tenfold, and then vanished without a trace.

At the same time, Kurosaki was completely enveloped by a personal whirlwind that completely hid him from sight, even to the keen-eyed Goddess of Flash. Yoruichi was helpless to intervene, stuck in place by a feeling that she couldn't identify. Her eyes stung as dust flew into her face and she blinked. As soon as she did, the ordeal was over, the only sign that it had ever happened being the gradually settling debris.

However, that was not what surprised or shocked Shihōin Yoruichi the most.

Kurosaki Ichigo, the boy she had taken in personally to help train for bankai . . . was gone.

In his place was a man with black hair down to his neck, and a height that was at least four inches taller than Kurosaki. Yoruichi, freed from whatever feeling had paralyzed her, used Shunpo to get closer, frowning. The man had bandages—no, not bandages, they were something else entirely—wrapped around his chest and right arm, leaving his left arm, which was covered in strange black markings, bare. The gray material stretched over his face, obscuring everything below his eyes behind a mask.

However, the man was definitely wearing the bottom half of a Shinigami uniform, along with sandals.

The final straw was that the man was _silent_; his Reiatsu, even when he appeared to be unconscious, was completely undetectable. Yoruichi couldn't feel a thing from him. The Shihōin princess's heart was pounding in her chest, but she let her training take hold. Carefully, she placed various Kidō bindings on the unconscious man, careful not to touch him in case that would wake him up. Kidō wasn't her strong suit, but training in the Onmitsukidō taught her how to restrain a target effectively.

When he woke up, Yoruichi vowed, she was going to have some questions for him. Her saving grace was that Abarai didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss, most likely because he was engaged in his own bankai training, and didn't have time to worry about someone else.

* * *

_Yeah, Ichigo is going to be close to godlike in his power, but he'll keep it sealed most of the time. I just wanted to see how he would react in these kind of situations._

_Updates will not come for a while, probably not until I finish my other Bleach story._

_-RoR_

_Review if you want. If the reaction is positive I'll definitely continue this story later._


	2. Chapter 2

_Please note that this is the last update for a while. I just wanted to get this chapter out because you guys seemed to like this story so much. I may update again before _Ichigo, Meet Ichigo_ is completed, but with school coming up that's highly unlikely. Sorry._

_The difference between Ichigo's inner hollow Zangetsu and the Quincy Zangetsu: Ichigo's true Shinigami powers are referred to as just Zangetsu. The Quincy abilities are simply Old Man Zangetsu. While in bankai, Zangetsu becomes Hollow Zangestu, and Old Man Zangetsu becomes Tensa Zangetsu._

_Note:_

_Ichigo in his own mind._

**_"Zangetsu in Ichigo's mind" _ "Zangetsu in the material world"**

_"Old Man Zangetsu in Ichigo's mind" _"Old Man Zangetsu in the material world"

* * *

Chapter 2

The first thing I became aware of was a dull, muted light that filtered through my closed eyelids. Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinking to clear the remnants of sleep from them.

Suddenly the memory of what I had done crashed down around me, but panic was foreign to me and I reigned in my emotions and looked around, noting that I was still in my inner world. It wasn't raining, which was a good sign, and the buildings weren't deconstructing into billions of white boxes, which was also a good sign. I took all of these into account and decided that I wasn't dead.

Given that, there was a high probability that Kisuke's invention had worked. If that was true, and I'd actually ended up at the point where I wanted to end up—which was my bankai training with Yoruichi—then I would need to speak with Yoruichi immediately.

With that thought in mind, I pulled myself from my inner world, knowing that since I was in Mugetsu state I wouldn't be able to speak with my Zanpakutō spirits.

When my eyes opened for the second time, I realized that the light was a lot brighter than the diffused gray that filtered throughout the inverted world in my mind. I registered a painted ceiling and a rocky wasteland with dead trees first, and the emotionless, purple-haired woman standing in front of me second, because she wasn't a threat in my mind.

Then I blinked again.

_Yoruichi._

Fuck, Kisuke's invention _worked_. I was in the training grounds, as far as I could tell, and that was _Yoruichi_ standing in front of me, alive and well. Extending my senses, I felt Renji a ways away, clashing with Zabimaru. Briefly, I was irritated, since I'd been aiming to get here on the first day of training, not the second.

"Who are you?"

My eyes snapped to the Goddess of Flash, who was regarding me coolly, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. However, after spending so long with her, I could see the nervousness in her gaze, hidden so well that no one else save Yoruichi herself should be able to see it.

In this timeline, anyway. Silently, I thanked my Zanpakutō spirits for the help they had provided me in the twenty-four hours I had taken to prepare myself for this. The very sight of the Shihōin princess was causing a dull ache in my chest, but it was negligible compared to what it could've been. Without all that mental preparation, I would've been . . . well, a wreck.

"I won't ask again," Yoruichi repeated, her voice hitting me like a whip. "Who are you? And what have you done with Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Right. I'd probably replaced the old version of me in this timeline, since two of Kurosaki Ichigo in the same timeline would probably cause the universe to implode. Not for the first time, I thanked Kisuke's planning.

I opened my mouth to speak, and then realized that it wouldn't do anything. Not when I was still wrapped in the gray, bandage-like material of Mugetsu. It was sheer luck that I had subconsciously clamped down on my Reiatsu to prevent it from leaking out while I was unconscious at the last second before I blacked out. Instead, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that I knew Yoruichi well enough. I was almost positive that she wouldn't attack me, but I couldn't be sure.

Slowly, I let the power of Mugetsu slip through my fingers, until the gray material began cracking. Yoruichi's eyes narrowed further, if that was possible, and she tensed, but other than that she didn't react as the "bandages" slowly melted off my person and formed a blade attached to my right hand, currently bound behind me by some level of Bakudō. If I wasn't careful, I knew, I would accidentally snap all of the restraints off, and then talking to Yoruichi would get much more difficult.

Keeping a tight reign on my power, I reached deep inside of myself, to the core of my soul, and _yanked_. Involuntarily, I hissed through my teeth at the agony that surpassed anything else; pulling apart my soul, separating the merged forms of my power was agonizing in a way that passed all description.

Dimly, through the fire that flowed through my veins, I could feel Yoruichi dropping into a defensive stance, clearly expecting me to attack.

And then it was over, and the pain faded, and I could think straight again. The top half of my Shihakushō, which had returned after I dropped out of Mugetsu, felt cool against my hot skin.

Even now, despite the fact that I was only in bankai—not even my merged, _full_ bankai—my Reiatsu was completely undetectable, which was probably for the best. Otherwise, everyone within a kilometer radius would be suffocating.

Since going into shikai would automatically bring my Reiatsu down to levels that others could sense and I didn't trust myself to keep my spirit pressure restrained right now with _Yoruichi who was supposed to be dead_ standing in front of me, I remained in bankai.

Yoruichi, whose eyes had slowly widened as my appearance changed—_did the orange hair give it away, Shihōin?_ —Let out a small gasp when my eyes opened again, revealing their amber color.

"Yoruichi," I said calmly, somewhat pleased that my voice didn't waver. "How've you been?"

Her face was absolutely priceless as she managed to strangle out, "_I—Ichigo_?"

I couldn't help the slight smirk that appeared on my face. Maybe it was seeing the Shihōin princess alive again that triggered the surge of _happier_ emotions in me, but I didn't care.

_Thanks, Kisuke._

"Don't move," I ordered, instinctively using the tone I'd adopted during the war to get immediate obedience. Yoruichi stiffened in surprise as I stood up, the bindings falling off they like they weren't even there. Training from the Flash Goddess herself had taught me how to shake off any binding in moments, not to mention how to move quietly and suppress my Reiatsu.

Tensa Zangetsu felt comfortable in my hand and I slung the blade over my back, letting black bandages wrap around it. I'd discovered that I could sheath my bankai like that a ways into the war, since going into shikai was practically suicide.

"So," I said, looking straight at Yoruichi. "Questions?"

She took a moment to collect herself—I was impressed at how quickly she managed it, given the situation and what she'd just witnessed—before she spoke.

"Ichigo, is that your bankai?"

Clearly, she was referring to Tensa Zangetsu, strapped across my back. I smiled slightly. "Yeah." Then a thought crossed my mind. "Actually, I think I can get some other people to explain some things."

Closing my eyes, I reached into my mindscape, sensed the two presences residing there, and _pulled_.

When I opened my eyes, there were two more beings standing on either side of me. Young Tensa Zangetsu was to my left, while Hollow Tensa Zangetsu (I referred to him as "Hollow Zangetsu" just to keep things clear while in bankai) was to my right. Thankfully, Hollow Zangetsu didn't have his mask on or his blade drawn, which probably would've provoked Yoruichi into attacking him.

"Aren't you Zangetsu?" Yoruichi asked pointedly, staring at Tensa Zangetsu to my left. "At least, in bankai form?"

"Yes," the apparent teenager answered, his icy blue eyes unreadable. "I am Tensa Zangetsu."

"Heaven Chain Slaying Moon," Yoruichi mused. "Nice name."

"Thank you."

However, Yoruichi wasn't done. Her gaze switched to my right. "If he is Tensa Zangetsu, then who or what are you?"

Hollow Zangetsu, who had no sense of tact, grinned in his usual sadistic manner. **"You don't remember me? That hurts. You threw away my mask."**

The Flash Goddess' eyes widened in understanding at his words. "You are Kurosaki Ichigo's inner hollow."

**"Yep."**

"Actually," I intervened, before Yoruichi could jump to conclusions, "he's not _really_ that—"

**"Ruining the moment, King," **Hollow Zangetsu muttered, but I ignored him.

"—whole inner hollow thing. He's my actually my Shinigami power. And my inner hollow."

"Both?"

Yoruichi was somewhat surprised from what I could tell. Apparently, Kisuke hadn't told her that much about me even in this time. Either that, or Yoruichi had been gone so often the enigmatic shopkeeper had never had the moment to tell her.

"Yeah, both." I sighed, realizing that things were going to start getting weird now. "Anyway, I should probably apologize."

One of Yoruichi's eyebrows crept up. "Apologize?"

"Well," I said, the picture of seriousness, "I may have killed myself."

In the end, it took exactly twenty minutes to convince Yoruichi that I was from the future, and to convince her that Hollow Zangetsu was _not_ a threat, and that I _was_ there to help, and that Aizen _was_ going to die the next day. It took another five minutes to convince Yoruichi that there was _no way_ she could tell anyone else, except maybe Kisuke. If everyone knew I was from the future, there were going to be a lot of questions that I really didn't want to answer, and Mayuri would stalk me for the rest of eternity. No matter what, though, Aizen was going down.

There was no way I was letting the future happen any other way.

"Kisuke sent you back," Yoruichi mused, staring me up and down. She had taken the news surprisingly well, all things considered, but I had left out most of the details, including the fact that she died. Sometimes, there were things people didn't need to know. Amazingly, Hollow Zangetsu and Tensa Zangetsu had been helpful the entire time, with Tensa Zangetsu agreeing to release small amounts of Reiatsu so that Renji wouldn't get suspicious.

"Yeah. He's pretty damn smart."

Yoruichi smirked. "I don't think he'll expect this development."

"Nope. I'm looking forward to the expression on his face."

**"Hey, King!"**

"What?"

**"What're we gonna do now? We've got a while 'till the execution!"**

It was Tensa Zangetsu who replied, since he was typically the voice of reason out of the group. "We will come up with a plan as to how we are going to get events to proceed as normal. Ichigo, you still have that battle with Kuchiki Byakuya. Aizen will be suspicious if you emerge from that battle unscathed."

I exchanged a look with Hollow Zangetsu and a plan came to mind. "I'll just go as normal, in shikai. My acting skills should be enough to pass, and letting Byakuya hurt me won't be difficult at all."

"You're going to _let_ Kuchiki attack you?" Yoruichi interrupted, her tone of voice full of disbelief and a small amount of reproach.

I fixed her with a determined look. "I need to keep Aizen from suspecting anything. Zangetsu, you're going to take over, okay?"

Hollow Zangetsu grinned. **"Sure, King."**

I knew that he was happy about our arrangement. During the war, I hadn't been strong enough, and Hollow Zangetsu frequently took over during the fighting to give me a break. We were allies, now so much more than that, and the transfer of control was almost effortless.

It was almost strange that a hollow was the one to understand me so completely.

"Ichigo . . ."

I turned back to Yoruichi, feeling the ache in my chest increase tenfold at the sympathy in her eyes as she spoke.

"What did you go through to get so strong?"

Swallowing, I opened my mouth to speak, only to have a white hand clamp over it. Hollow Zangetsu gave me an annoyed look, his golden irises shining.

**"Ya can have yer cry-fest later, King," **he growled. **"We need to get shit ready."**

I barely had time to blink before Hollow Zangetsu's grip shifted and I was yanked away from Yoruichi with impressive speed. Faintly, I saw Tensa Zangetsu explain something to Yoruichi—probably a fake excuse as to why we needed to be alone, a talent that I had found the bankai spirit to be disturbingly adept at—and then give chase, an annoyed expression on his face.

Whatever conversation was coming next was not going to be fun.

* * *

Yoruichi stared in the direction that Ichigo had gone, dragged off by the spirit of his Zanpakutō. Her mind was spinning, but she didn't let a single hint of that confusion show on her face. According the Ichigo—the future Ichigo—the _past_ Ichigo was no more. In order to prevent a paradox that could've destroyed everything, the future Ichigo had essentially _replaced_ the past Ichigo.

For some reason, Yoruichi kept returning to the same thought: _well, at least he got bankai_.

If Kisuke could see her now . . .

However, Yoruichi couldn't shake the fear that held her in place whenever Kurosaki Ichigo made eye contact with her. It wasn't that he was overtly threatening; but the unnatural grace with which he moved, the utter lack of detectable Reiatsu, and the strangely emotionless mask he held on his features all accumulated to something that was disturbing.

Whatever Ichigo had gone through in the war, Yoruichi knew, it had been so much worse than he said.

No wonder he didn't want anyone else to know he was from the future.

_I could explain the physical changes as a side-effect of his bankai,_ Yoruichi mused. _And his sudden increase in power as a merging with his hollow side._

She decided on that. It was believable, at least. Only Kisuke would know the truth.

For now.

* * *

Around a day later, I raced through the Seireitei, my face emotionless. I was about to save Rukia for the _second_ time, and then I would have to let myself get stabbed by Byakuya, and _then_ I would have to let Aizen do his big reveal, and _then_ I would kill that traitor.

I would make him _pay._

**_"Don't forget about us."_**

_"We will assist you with whatever you need, Ichigo. Just make sure that you do not let your anger get the best of you."_

_Thanks, Old Man. Zangetsu, there's no way in hell I can forget about you. You're too obnoxious._

**_"Fuck you."_**

_"Fuck you too."_

I could've gone straight to Sōkyoku hill, but I had time to kill and frankly I was looking forward to throwing Rukia at Renji again. There were some things I just had to take advantage of.

Thanks to some effort, I was back in Shikai, Zangetsu strapped across my back and sheathed at my waist. The blades' weight was comforting, and just because I could I went at max speed, streaking through the air at speeds that even Yoruichi would be challenged to keep up with. It was exhilarating, and I hopped from Rukongai district to Rukongai district, not knowing where I was going. It was just so good to see Soul Society in one piece again.

**_"Oi, King. Ya better head back to the hill. The princess is gonna get executed soon."_**

_"The hollow is right."_

**_"Listen up, you can say my name, you pole-loving, stick-up-your-ass piece of—"_**

_That's enough, Zangetsu. I know you're tense, but come on._

I could feel Zangetsu's wave of disappointment.

**_"It's not my fault we're not gonna fight anyone challenging in this timeline."_**

_"Then we will spar."_

_See? Listen to the Old Man. Now let me go save Rukia again._

**_"Che. Fine."_**

Thankfully, he went quiet, and I turned my attention back to where I was going; at top speed, it would take me a little under a thirty seconds to get to Sōkyoku hill. The cape Yoruichi had given me—she'd smirked when she'd done so, noting that I'd probably already seen it—billowed in the wind, and even I had to admit that literally flying was pretty cool.

A wave of intense heat washed over me and I recognized the distinct spiritual pressure of the Sōkyoku, brilliant in its fiery form. It spread its wings, and I recognized it as the moment before it went to incinerate Rukia into nothing.

Yeah, like I was ever going to let that happen.

In an instant, I was hovering in front of the phoenix, Zangetsu on my back, holding off the power of a million Zanpakutō. _That has to be an exaggeration. I can feel its power, sure, but it didn't even move me when it tried to strike._

Casually, I looked at Rukia and grinned. "Hey."

_Seriously, the Sōkyoku is weaker than I remember._

**_"Maybe 'cause yer the most powerful being in Soul Society, King."_**

_That's just being arrogant._

**_"Somethin' ya excel at."_**

_I thought we got over this!_

**_"Doesn't mean I forgot."_**

I mentally groaned, but let the topic drop since Rukia was yelling at me. _So much for being at peace_, I thought with a slight smirk. At least the looks of shock on the captains' and lieutenants' faces were still as priceless as I remembered.

"What's it going to take for you to finally realize?! You can't defeat my brother!"

Yep, there was Rukia's little mini-speech. I'd been looking forward to that.

"He'll kill you for _sure_ this time! I'm not asking you or anyone else to rescue me! I'm _resigned_ to my fate! GO AWAY!"

Did she not see that I'd stopped the Sōkyoku? I mean, now that I was doing this the second time I realized that that was a pretty big oversight on her part. Yeah, Byakuya was more of a skill challenge, but stopping the Sōkyoku probably took a lot of raw power.

Speaking of the giant spear, I no longer felt its pressure on my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it rear back and screech. The noise was deafening. The sheer pressure generated from the sound pushed me forward a step, and I heard Rukia shout my name in worry as I turned to face the firebird.

Please.

"Backing out to prepare for a second attack, huh?" I asked, confident because I knew _exactly_ what was going to happen next. "Bring it on."

"You'll never be able to stop it a second time!" Rukia shouted, her voice cracking. "Enough already Ichigo, you've got to quit!" When I didn't move, she continued, her words full of pain. "Ichigo, please! You'll be torn to pieces!"

The Sōkyoku tensed—can a construct of fire tense?—and then rushed forward, fully intent on incinerating me. For the sake of repeating the past, I flew towards it as well, one hand on the cleaver blade of Zangetsu.

Before we could meet, a thick brown cord wrapped around the Sōkyoku's neck, halting it in its tracks. I stopped as well, waiting while the spear on the other end of the cord fixed itself to the ground below. As I remembered, Ukitake appeared, holding another Shihōin artifact; it was some kind of shield, from what I could see. Captain Kyōraku was now by Ukitake, his hand on the spear thing implanted in the ground.

Mayhem ensued, with Suì-Fēng trying to maintain order and failing, probably due to her overweight lieutenant. How that guy got onto the stealth force is something I'll never know or understand.

Golden light ripped through the cord wrapped around the Sōkyoku, emanating from the Eighth and Thirteenth captains' position. When the light hit the Sōkyoku, the phoenix exploded in a brilliant shower of flames. Seeing it for the second time only made it better.

"Might as well use the diversion," I muttered. _Like last time_, I added mentally, back flipping onto the Sōkyoku stand. Rukia, ever ignorant of just how strong I was, looked at me as I unsheathed Zangetsu's cleaver blade. The bandage wrapped around the hilt making up the grip expanded and I grabbed it, using it to spin the blade around much like Zangetsu did.

**_"Yer lucky I taught ya to do that better."_**

_I already said thank you. Now shut up._

"Ichigo, what are you doing?

"Isn't it obvious?" I replied, letting my resolve show with a blue glow in my eyes. _Rukia won't be dying today. Aizen will._ "This stand—" pause for dramatic effect—"is about to tumble down."

Rukia's eyes widened further. "That's crazy! Ichigo, you can't! You'll only end up killing us both! The Sōkyoku is too strong!"

"Don't worry about it," I replied, tugging on the bandage and catching Zangetsu by the hilt. "Just shut up and watch."

I heard her mutter my name in shock at my confidence, but I ignored her in favor of plunging Zangetsu into the stand. For a moment, nothing happened, but then I channeled a small chunk of my Reiryoku into the stand and it began glowing blue and shaking, tendrils of my spirit energy rising off of it. Dust exploded in a ring from my position and the light grew to blinding proportions. Then the whole thing imploded, causing a massive dust cloud to form, completely obscuring everything.

In the confusion, I grabbed Rukia and held her under one arm, hiding the smirk I was feeling. With Zangetsu slung over my shoulder, I began speaking, saying the lines I remembered so clearly.

"'Don't try to rescue me', you said," I mocked gently. "'Just go home', you said. You know, sometimes you talk too much. Good thing I don't listen. Now this is the second time I've had to tell you this." She was limp in my arms, probably in shock. "I've come here to rescue you. Got it?"

"What a fool," Rukia whispered, her voice shaky. "I'm not going to . . . say thank you." Her breath caught in a kind of half-sob, and I softened my voice.

"I didn't expect you to."

Distantly, I could hear various comments on the now-missing-a-chunk-on-the-top-and-cleary-not-so-indestructible Sōkyoku stand from the Shinigami below. _Not so indestructible now, huh?_

I was standing on top of it, of course, with Rukia under one arm, and contented myself with giving Byakuya a death glare. No matter how great he was during the war, and how much he warmed up to Rukia—and me, surprisingly—he still had a stick up his ass that was ten sizes too big.

"Ichigo," Rukia said. I glanced down at her. "What are we supposed to do now? How can we possibly disappear with so many eyes watching us?"

I grinned at the memory of what came next.

"We make a run for it."

Immediately, I felt Rukia tense right before she opened her mouth to criticize my words. It was as if she didn't remember that I was still carrying her under one arm. "How stupid! We'd never get away! Those are _captains_!"

"Yeah, we'll just kick their asses first. We're not along, you know. Uryū and Chad, Orihime, Ganju, and Hanatarō. They're all here too. I'm gonna save everyone who helped us and we're all gonna get away."

Rukia was staring at me and I kept my brave face on, forcing myself not to slip into my habitual scowl or emotionless expression, my two default looks during the war.

The sound of grunting reached our ears and Rukia gasped, twisting in my grip. "What was that?"

A second later, I spoke up. "It's about time, Renji!"

Rukia gasped—_again_—and looked at her childhood friend, who was bandaged and breathing hard, using his sword for support as the members of the Kidō corps collapsed around him. Nevertheless, he was here.

"Renji!" Rukia cried. The redhead looked up, seeing me holding Rukia.

"Rukia!" He yelled. The Shinigami of the hour twisted _again_ in my grip—like she wanted to fall—her expression so hopeful it was almost painful. For a moment, I flashed back to the moment when Renji had fallen during the war, taking Aizen's blade through the heart while trying to get Rukia to safety.

She'd been a wreck after that.

_"Ichigo, you cannot think about these things now. Remember, you are here to prevent those things from occurring."_

_I know, Old Man. That doesn't make the memories go away._

The hollow was silent, which I was grateful for. We had an understanding of what was a good time to talk and what wasn't. This would be one of the latter categories.

"Oh Renji it's you I'm so glad you're still alive!" Rukia cried, the words pouring out of her in a rush. Ignoring her, I spoke up.

"I figured you'd show up."

"What choice did I have?" He replied, smirking. "I couldn't just rely on you to save Rukia, could I?"

My smirk widened as he spoke. _I've been waiting for this._

"All right, here you go," I said, lifting Rukia above my head. She'd gone stiff, not sure of what I was up to. "Ready?" I asked.

"Wait, Ichigo!" She cried, a whole new type of fear entering her voice. On the ground, Renji's eyes were wide. "You don't really think you're going to—"

"Hey, hold on now!" Renji called. "You wouldn't dare—!"

Yes, yes I would.

"Look out below!" I yelled, a grin on my face as I hurled Rukia straight at Renji, making sure to keep my strength in check but enjoying the moment all the same.

Rukia's screaming was like music to my ears. Renji's cry of "you're insane!" was slightly less so, but still awesome. For a moment, it looked like the petite Shinigami was flying in the way she hurtled through the air.

Then she collided with Renji, both of them rolling backwards in a plume of dust. When it cleared, there was a decent-sized rut in the ground. Rukia popped up, furious.

"Damn you Ichigo!" She yelled. Renji appeared next to her, just as pissed.

"Yeah, you idiot! What if I didn't catch her?!"

Heedless of their words, I shouted down an order instead. "Take her and go!" When Renji didn't move, I repeated myself. "Don't just stand there, take her to safety! Take her far away from here!" Zangetsu went back on my shoulder and rested there while my voice took on a more serious tone, reminiscent of the war but not quiet. "That's your duty. Protect her with your life."

Wordlessly, Renji stared at me. Then he turned and ran in the other direction, carrying Rukia.

I went back to my original plan of glaring at Byakuya. He returned the glare coldly, which was fine by me. It made my urge to fight him all the stronger, even after we'd fought together for years.

The fat guy, the First Division's lieutenant, and the Fourth Division's lieutenant all went after Renji at the orders of their captains. Suppressing a smirk, I appeared in front of them, letting my hair shadow my eyes for a brief moment. Then I drove Zangetsu point-first into the ground, since I really didn't need him for this. I hadn't used him the first time, and didn't use him now.

They all released their shikai, but right as the fat guy did—what was his name again? I can't remember—I darted forward, smashing right through his mace-like Zanpakutō and knocking him out with a strong punch to the stomach. Then I deflected the First Division Lieutenant's jab with his rapier, following it with a swift uppercut that sent him crumpling to the ground. The Fourth Division Lieutenant went down a moment later—_sorry, Unohana_—her expression still surprised even as her eyes rolled up in her head.

Without a moment to spare, I grabbed Zangetsu even as Kotetsu was still falling, raising the blade just in time to block Senbonzakura. I knew my Shikai was different than the first time; the blade, while similar to my old cleaver, was jet black and had a hollowed-out portion running along the back of the blade from the hilt to the center of the sword. The other Zangetsu was sheathed at my waist, disguised in the bandages that acted as an automatic sheath and hidden by the Shihōin cloak. Hopefully, these people wouldn't care enough to notice, since most of them hadn't really seen my shikai, at least not in battle.

Even now, there was a note of triumph in my voice.

"I can see your moves, Kuchiki Byakuya," I stated, grinning. He regarded me, his face expressionless.

"Tell me why," he said flatly. "Why won't you just give up? You keep trying to save Rukia again and again." This time, I didn't even remember what I had said. The words just came out, and instinctively I knew that they were exactly what I had said nine years ago.

"You're her brother, aren't you?" I seethed. "So the question that needs to be asked is why the hell aren't you trying to save her?"

"Such a foolish question. Even if I did have the time to try and explain the principle to you, someone like you would never understand it." Feeling my anger through the way my blade shifted, Byakuya's eyes hardened. "It seems talking serves no purpose. Prepare to die." His sword burst into white light, coated in Reiatsu.

He was trying to overwhelm me. In response, I raised my own spiritual pressure, channeling a tiny fraction to Zangetsu just for appearances. After all, Byakuya could probably sense my Reiatsu, and even though I was keeping it down to the level of a captain there was always a chance I could let it slip.

With a roar, I pushed harder, and we separated in an explosion of dust. I slid back a few meters, letting things play out as they should. Byakuya regarded me coolly as the dust drifted into the air and dissipated.

"There is only one path before me," he stated. "I shall kill you, Kurosaki Ichigo, and then, once again, I will capture Rukia, and this time, I will execute her myself."

Make that a stick up his ass that was twenty sizes too big.

"I won't let you do that," I snarled, discarding the cloak Yoruichi had given me. "That's the reason why I'm here."

The only indication Byakuya gave of his attack was a slight narrowing of his eyes and the shifting of his foot. I braced myself, and we entered into a deadly dance of blades, slashing and parrying.

He was definitely skilled, there was no doubt, and I had to consciously hold myself back. Our Reiatsu poured into the air; his pink and mine light blue. It was difficult to keep my hollow Reiatsu out of sight; right now, I couldn't risk the red-and-black energy to be seen.

Byakuya let out a particularly powerful blast and we separated again, standing on two distanced rock outcroppings among the destroyed ground.

"I see you have mastered the Flash Step," Byakuya commented. "But don't think that it will change your fate; it won't."

I smirked. "What's all this casual analysis of my powers? You said talk was useless yet here you are taking it easy on me. I thought you were gonna kill me." My smirk took on a darker, slightly less sane tilt, reminiscent of Zangetsu's. "Didn't you say you intended to cut me down? You haven't even put a scratch on me yet, Byakuya." _And here comes the arrogant part._ "Does your silence mean that's all you've got? I don't believe it." _Straight to the stupid bit, at least it was the first time. _ I stepped forward. "Show your bankai, Byakuya."

He didn't move. "C'mon!' I shouted. "I heard what you said. You were gonna kill me first and then execute Rukia with your own hands!"

"So I did," he stated calmly.

"I won't let you do that!" I declared. It was so strange to show this much emotion on my face; at the same time, it felt good. I needed someone to yell at, and a pre-war Byakuya fit that description perfectly. "I'm gonna defeat you, Byakuya." Deep breath. "I'm willing to risk everything. I'm gonna crush you until there's nothing left! You act as if there's some reason why it has to be this way; you say I wouldn't understand!"

I looked up to glare at him even harder. "You got that right. I can't even imagine what kind of monster would actually threaten to murder someone's sister! But I promise you that you'll never say such a thing in front of Rukia again." I leveled Zangetsu at him, staring down the blade into Byakuya's cold eyes. "Release your bankai now, or I'll kill you where you stand, Byakuya."

"An empty threat," he said coldly. "All your boasting and bragging will not change my mind, and it will not change Rukia's fate." He shifted Senbonzakura. "Nor your own. You want my bankai? Careful what you ask for. You will die, but it is a thousand years too soon for you to die by my bankai." He closed his eyes, and his blade glowed pink. "Scatter, Senbonzakura."

The pink blades, reminiscent of Sakura petals, flew towards me in a dizzying spiral. I wanted to smirk but didn't, instead lifting Zangetsu off my shoulder and slamming the blade into the ground while channeling Reiryoku into it. A blue blast erupted from Zangetsu, blowing away Senbonzakura's blades and narrowly missing a wide-eyed Byakuya, though it did nick his shoulder and upper arm.

I savored the look on his face. There were only so many opportunities in the universe to see Byakuya genuinely shocked, and I intended to remember every one.

When the dust cleared, there was a giant trench in Sōkyoku hill. Blood dripped down Byakuya's arm, though his eyes remained fixed on me.

"Is this the true power of your Zanpakutō, Kurosaki Ichigo?" He asked.

"That's right," I answered, Zangetsu back on my shoulder and held there casually. "When I swing my sword, all of my Reiatsu is absorbed by my Zanpakutō then released in a super high-density beam. That gives it an incredibly amplified swing. _That's_ Zangetsu's power!"

**_"Kind of, King. Kind of."_**

_Shut up. I'm trying to remember things here._

**_"Yeah, and if the old man and I weren't helping you would be lost right now."_**

_"Be quiet, hollow, and help me."_

**_"Fine."_**

"You know," I continued, "the funny thing is I've never actually aimed it at anything before. Until just now I wasn't really sure how to fire it. Urahara Kisuke told me, 'I can only teach you the stances'. Now I finally know what he meant. He was telling me that there was only one who could use Zangetsu. And that was Zangetsu himself. The name of that attack . . . is Getsuga Tenshō."

I adjusted my grip on Zangetsu and drop the blade into the ground. "I'll say it once more, Kuchiki Byakuya! Attack me with your bankai now! I'm going to destroy you completely this time!"

Byakuya was quiet for a moment. "'Piercer of heaven', huh," he said. "What a pretentious name."

**_"Well you're a pretentious guy, asshole!"_**

_"Be quiet."_

**_"He is!"_**

_QUIET!_

**_"Okay, okay, sorry."_**

"All right then," Byakuya continued. "Since you're not willing to take 'no' for an answer, then see this: behold, my bankai." He lifted up his Katana in a display that was more than familiar to me, and then let go of it. I made sure to look surprised, as if I hadn't expected that. "Do not worry. This will be over swiftly."

_You wish._

"You'll turn to dust and disappear before another thought passes through your head." Ripples spread out from Senbonzakura and a procession of blades rose of from the ground on either side of Byakuya.

"Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

The blades exploded in a shower of deadly pink petals. Instinctively, I grabbed Zangetsu and ran forward, narrowly avoided a shower of blades that would've torn me to ribbons—either that, or they would've inadvertently revealed my Hierro, which had automatically activated. Quickly, I got rid of it.

The next few moments passed in a blur, with Byakuya launching his blades at me. Soon, I maneuvered myself into a trap in the air, tried to get out of it with a Getsuga Tenshō, failed, and—_this is going to hurt_—was bombarded with blades that cut into my skin like millions of tiny swords.

"Think of Senbonzakura like this," Byakuya stated as the dust cleared and I recovered myself in the small crater my landing had created. "A relentless barrage from all angles by billions of blades attacking simultaneously. The abilities of your Zanpakutō are more than I imagined. However, your attacks are far too broad and clumsy."

I let my breathing pick up and forcibly stopped instant regeneration from healing my wounds and getting rid of the blood dripping down my arm.

"You could _never_ evade the nimble assault of Senbonzakura."

_Actually . . ._

"Damn," I muttered. "I thought I could do better than that. I should've known I couldn't do it; I had to try though." As I spoke, I slowly got to my feet. "I guess it was stupid to think I could ever go against a bankai while only in shikai."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed fractionally. "That arrogant mouth of yours is going to be the death of you. You talk as if you already achieved bankai level."

"Yeah . . ." I looked up at him, grinning. "You catch on pretty quickly, Kuchiki Byakuya."

There was another one of his priceless shocked expressions.

Moving with determination, I set my feet and brought Zangetsu back, raising my Reiatsu automatically so that I was surrounded in a glowing blue aura that shot like a pillar into the sky. The ground beneath me shook and disintegrated and the breeze picked up in response, but everything went still for a moment as I brought Zangetsu forward, bracing my left hand against the inside of my right elbow.

"Ban . . . kai!"

The world exploded in wind and dust, which after a few moments abruptly froze and dispersed, revealing the black blade of Tensa Zangetsu—though it had circular holes punched at even intervals along the back of the blade, much like my Shikai, which only went halfway up. The manji guard was also slightly more extended than it had been, and the chain swayed in the breeze.

The black overcoat I usually wore was there; three x-shaped crosses in the middle connected it while the coat had a white inside, though I was missing the white guards I used to have on my wrists, ankles, and neck. Of course, Old Man Zangetsu's blade had transferred to a shield hidden under that coat, but he'd already agreed to forcibly prevent that shift from happening. Therefore, the other blade of Zangetsu had dissipated into spirit particles during the dust storm that my purposefully sloppy bankai release had created.

"Tensa Zangetsu," I finished.

Byakuya's face was priceless. If only I had a camera.

"So . . . that's it?" He asked. "_That_ little weapon—"

**_"Screw you too."_**

"_That's_ your bankai? It looks just like a regular Zanpakutō. Now I can see; this is no different than the day of the execution." He actually started to look angry. "What it comes down to is the fact that you enjoy treading on those things we hold sacred. What you need is to be taught a lesson." A breeze drifted through the air, stirring up the debris my bankai release had created. "I plan on showing you what happens to immature brats who try to insult our honor."

A tidal wave of pink rose up from behind the captain, heading straight in my direction as Byakuya remained stoic.

I avoided it easily, darting forward and allowing Tensa Zangetsu to rest on Byakuya's throat.

Shocked again. Kami, it never got old.

"You wanna talk about pride?" I asked, anger coating my words. "Your so-called honor demands that you kill Rukia. Takes a lot of honor to kill your own sister, doesn't it? Well if that's the kind of pride you're talkin' about you can bet your ass I'm gonna mess with it!"

With that, I jumped back. I needed Byakuya to release his second level bankai; things _had_ to play out as normal, no matter how tempting that opening might have been.

"That's the reason I got this power; your stupid pride!" Tensa Zangetsu was pointed at Byakuya in challenge. Whatever came next, I was ready.

"Tell me why. Why did you take the point of your sword away from my throat?"

I was silent.

"Well? Answer me."

Still I didn't speak. Let him talk himself out; I think that's what I was thinking the first time around.

"Arrogance destroys the footholds of victory," Byakuya stated, almost like he was reciting it. "That move of yours is _not_ bankai."

**_"The fuck do you know? All you've got is a pansy-ass bunch of petals which I'm sure would look better stuck up your—"_**

_Zangetsu! Shut. Up! Old Man, could you, you know?_

_"Of course."_

_Thanks._

Byakuya was still talking. "There could never be a bankai as small and fragile as that." I was lucky that Zangetsu was being managed by the other Zangetsu. Otherwise, my mind would be way too loud for comfort at those words. Even so, I could feel Zangetsu's indignation.

_You're not going to do anything stupid when you're in control, right?_

Old Man Zangetsu let him respond.

**_"'Course not. I hate the guy, King, but I know what we're here for. You're not the only one who grew up during that damned war."_**

Right.

"And a lowly Ryoka could _never_ attain bankai."

Kami, did he talk this much the first time?

"It's inconceivable." The blades at his feet began to glow their signature pink and drifted into the air. "With this attack, you will regret not slitting my throat when you had the chance. A miracle only happens once; your luck has run out, _boy_."

_Actually, I'm technically twenty-six. I just _look_ seventeen. Or eighteen, depending. I mean, I was actually sixteen at this point the first time around, but whatever. They haven't commented on my appearance so far, so hopefully they won't notice. And if they do, I'll say it's a side effect of my bankai. Simple._

As the second wave of pink blades in so many minutes drove towards me, I launched myself forward, beginning another, much more dangerous dance with Senbonzakura. Blades danced through the air around me, coming close to but never actually cutting me. I was too fast for that, at least for the moment.

_"Remember, you must slow down gradually."_

_I know, Old Man. I know._

Dancing through the air felt amazing, even if it felt like I was doing it in slow motion. It got better when Byakuya looked surprised again—_take that, jackass. The Ryoka _does_ have a bankai, and it's a good counter to yours._

I began circling Byakuya, upping my speed so that afterimages of myself—like clones—hung in the air behind me, indistinguishable from my real self.

"What's the matter?" I mocked. "Am I moving too slow for you? Just say so; I can move a little faster if you'd like."

"Don't get too cocky," Byakuya snapped—as much as the stuck-up noble could snap, anyway—as he reached out his hand, doubling the speed of his blades.

After a few harrowing dodged, I found myself in the air, surrounded by Byakuya's bankai. With no other option, I channeled my spirit energy to my arm and slashed each of the blades around me, rendering them useless.

_I seriously need to get a camera simply so I can catch Byakuya at moments like these._

"A miracle only happens once, huh?" I parroted from behind Byakuya, having used Shunpo to get there when he was distracted. "So, what do you call this?"

Byakuya spun as I stabbed with Zangetsu, barely avoiding being skewered by grabbing the blade with his bare hand. Blood splashed on the ground as Byakuya glared at me.

"I see," he said. "By focusing all the fighting power of the bankai in that small blade, that bankai gives you incredible power. Its size combined with its intensity allows you to fight at unimaginable speeds. Even I have to admit that the true power of your bankai is impressive." His grip on Tensa Zangetsu shifted. "Very well then. There is nothing left for me to do but to completely crush that power!"

The noble's Reiatsu skyrocketed, distorting the atmosphere and crushing the smaller rocks around us. Abruptly, it vanished, and we separated.

"Watch carefully, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Byakuya's Reiatsu became visible around him, spreading throughout the nearby area as a pink kind of fire. I stayed in a combat stance, knowing what was coming. The pink light shot into the air, surrounding the captain and I in a glowing dome.

"What you see is what happens when I abandon all defense and risk everything to kill my enemy. This is the true form of Senbonzakura." The pink walls faded to a dark blue, and then became lined with four rows of glowing pink swords that materialized almost hypnotically, like a parade of death. "Senkei, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi." He paused for a moment, and then continued, taking slow steps forward as he spoke. "Don't worry though, this is just your funeral procession. The thousand swords around you will not attack you at once, so relax. This Senkei is the form I show only to those special few enemies—" his arm glowed pink for a moment, and then a sword dropped down from the top row, losing its glow to reveal the sealed form of Senbonzakura—"who are truly deserving of my vow to kill them with my own hands. You are only the second to ever see it."

"I'm truly flattered," I said, and there was some truth to the words. I had to respect Byakuya; he may have a skull thicker than most hollows, but he had his pride, and he was a skilled fighter.

Our spiritual pressures flared up, surrounding us in hues of pink and blue, kicking up rocks.

"Here I come, Kurosaki Ichigo."

* * *

_A/N I shouldn't leave this at a cliffhanger, but I did. Anyway, you guys know (or can guess) what happens after this. If you're wondering why Ichigo didn't just out and kill Aizen, he's waiting so that he'll kill a traitor, not an innocent captain. He also wants to separate Rukia from the Hogyoku._

_Side note: every character in Bleach monologues _so. Much._ Seriously._

**_Reviews:_**

**_Guest: _**_Thank you! I hope you liked what you saw._

_**Glacis:** Wow, thank you! There are definitely better ones than this out there, though._

**_otogii: _**_I switched POV because Ichigo was unconscious. I will only do that once more-as you saw in this chapter-and I always do it with line breaks. As for who finds out, it won't be everyone, but some people will have to know, as you've seen._

**_Checkmate10:_**_ People probably haven't been using the true Zangetsu because as of right now its full abilities are still unknown._

**_Sora Labyrinth: _**_Finding stories with no pairings is hard, I'll agree on that point. Thank you for reviewing._

_Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed despite not thinking that the story was going to update soon! Please know that reviewing with only the words "please update" is kind of pointless. Those words won't change my school schedule and homework overload no matter how much I wish they would._

_Until next time,_

_-RoR_

_P.S. Some of you guys have disturbing pen names. Just thought I'd mention that. You know who you are._


	3. Chapter 3

_As a celebration of me _finally_ finishing my AP Euro work (which for the sake of my need to rant I will outline: one book with fifty half-essay questions, another book where I had to keep a double-entry journal, read the critique of said book, and then the rebuttal of said critique and then finish it off with a two-page essay, followed by collecting 25 news articles about separate countries in Europe about big issues with a three-sentance summary and explanation of each, finished up with a country profile of each country in the EU; in short, fuck AP Euro summer work)._

_Luckily, I already had this chapter typed up, so I can upload it easily. I'm happy about all the support, and I'll get into reviews at the end._

_Notes: _

_Ichigo in his own mind._

**_"Zangetsu in Ichigo's mind" _"Zangetsu in the material world"**

_"Old Man Zangetsu in Ichigo's mind" _"Old Man Zangetsu in the material world"

* * *

Chapter 3

_"Here I come, Kurosaki Ichigo."_

Byakuya and I clashed in a brilliant explosion of Reiatsu, moving around each other, flowing into each move even as the metal of our blades screamed at the constant contact.

And now came the hard part. I had already begun slowing down and dulling my fighting style, so that Byakuya now had the advantage of speed and skill. Barely a moment after I had that thought, we became locked in a stalemate, his blade pressing against my own with surprising force. Even in the past, Byakuya had been stronger than I gave him credit for.

"What's the matter?" Byakuya queried, his voice hard and his eyes flashing. "You seem to be moving much slower than when we started, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Is that a fact?" I answered, making myself grin confidently. "I can still block your sword. When you move, it's almost like you're still stationary."

Right as I finished the statement, Byakuya held out his free hand, another sword flying into it. When the blade slammed into and through my foot, pinning it to the ground, I had to bite back a cry of frustration that came from Zangetsu; he knew what we were capable of and no matter how long we talked about this plan the idea of _letting _myself get injured still . . . well, it still sucked. As my inner hollow, his frustration rolled through me in waves.

"Hadō number four," Byakuya stated, holding one finger up to my right shoulder, his expression never shifting.

_Dammit._

"Byakurai."

Lightning blasted out from his finger, engulfing my shoulder in searing pain and burning a hole clean through it. The remaining energy escaped Byakuya's Senkei, screaming through the air. It _burned_.

Biting my lip to keep from muttering the curses that Zangetsu was shouting in my head (he never repeated himself; it was almost impressive), I staggered back a step. It had taken so much effort not to immediately retaliate; the instincts that I had fought so hard to hone were not working in my favor right now, and only the control I had mastered over my emotions and actions prevented me from completely blowing my cover. This was different from holding back in a spar; holding back in a battle of life and death, even against an opponent far below my skill level, was dangerous.

"It's over for you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"What'd you say?" I gasped, glaring at him. I let my hands shake; the nerve damage in my shoulder helped with that, and I could feel the warm blood running down my skin, creating thin trails of crimson and staining the tattered remains of my clothes and the overcoat my bankai created. _I think that's enough injuries, right?_

_"I agree."_

**_"Definitely."_**

The eagerness in Zangetsu's voice was hard to miss, and some of his bloodlust sank into me.

"I gather you thought my movements became faster after activating my Senkei," Byakuya said, irritatingly calm despite the situation. "That is not the case. All that technique does is to compress my numerous sword fragments into one blade in order to explosively increase its killing capabilities. I haven't gotten faster."

The blade he held dissipated into pink sakura petals that quickly vanished, repeating what the blade in my foot had done after Byakuya had used Byakurai.

"So you're saying," I managed, biting the words out against the pain, "that what has actually changed here is that I've gotten slower?"

"There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. You have defeated many high-level Shinigami. You have gone far beyond what anyone thought you were capable of. You even survived slashes from my Senbonzakura. But you can feel it now, can't you? Your body is dying. You're only a human; though your spirit has not been broken, there is a limit to what you can endure. You have reached that limit."

He held out a hand, the expression on his face unchanging. Another blade materialized in Byakuya's hand, which he then raised over his head while regarding me with vague distaste. "This is the end, Kurosaki Ichigo."

The blade came down.

**_"Move over, King."_**

I caught it. More accurately, Zangetsu caught it. I was pushed to the side; not exactly suppressed, like what had happened the first time. It was as though I was in the backseat, and Zangetsu was driving. I could still hear, see, and feel everything; I just wasn't the one in control.

White material began gathering on my face, forming the hollow mask I knew so well. While it wasn't the first one I had—this one had two vertical red stripes, one over each eye that stretched from forehead to jaw—it was still obvious what it was.

Zangetsu giggled slightly, playing his role perfectly. I wasn't sure if the flickers of insanity at the edges of his mind-and now my mind-were entirely faked; in fact, I strongly suspected they weren't. **"I thought I told you, King," **he said, his double-toned voice now coming out of my mouth. Interestingly, he lost the lilting accent he had gained in my inner world every time we switched control. Maybe it was because he was using my mouth or something. **"It's a big problem for me if you get yourself killed."**

"That's impossible," Byakuya said, shocked. "Who or what are you?"

Zangetsu smirked. **"You wanna know who I am?" **He giggled again, the very picture of insanity.** "I have . . . no name!"**

He swung his blade up, catching Byakuya across the chest with Tensa Zangetsu and sending the Kuchiki noble flying back.

While Zangetsu went to work attacking Byakuya the same way he had the first time, I focused on dealing with the emotions I was feeling. The problem with Zangetsu and I switching control was that I didn't only get physical impressions; I could feel what he was feeling too, and it had taken a long time for me to be able to handle that while keeping my sanity. All the impressions my hollow was feeling, every venomous sensation Zangetsu experienced was tenfold that of what I normally dealt with, and it was like flashing through the war all over again and I could practically hear the screams of dying Shinigami who were too inexperienced to hold up more than ten seconds against the forces Aizen commanded and I couldn't get to them fast enough and they died in droves that I couldn't stop that Aizen kept me from stopping and the frustration and helplessness were coming back and the anger was overwhelming-

_"Ichigo."_

Old Man Zangetsu's calming voice pulled me back from the brink, and the soothing hum of Reiatsu he sent over me subdued my rising panic, allowing rational thought to return to my mind. After a second, I collected myself fully and went to work filtering Zangetsu's emotions, making sure to be more careful this time.

Bloodlust, anger, malice, something unidentifiable but clearly malevolent—they felt like they were _my_ emotions, like _I_ was the one feeling them, and technically, I was. But Zangetsu was their owner, and while Zangetsu technically _was_ me, there was a fine line between us. He was influenced by the hollow he had fused with at his birth as my Shinigami powers—to this day I didn't know which personality had come out on top (maybe I was just insane to begin with)—and that was the only way I could remind myself that this wasn't the person I wanted to be, that this wasn't the person I was, just a reflection of the darkest parts of me.

"This twisted spiritual pressure, that white mask," I heard Byakuya say. "Are you . . . a hollow?"

**"Who cares?" ** Zangetsu replied. **"I don't have to tell you anything because as soon as I finish with you you're going to—"**

He cut himself off, and I had to admit his acting was pretty good. We "struggled" for a minute in front of a speechless and motionless Byakuya.

**"LET GO!"** Zangetsu cried. Then, as if he'd heard a response, **"You're the one who's interfering! Don't you get it? I was about to kill 'im! You would win if you would just leave it to me! You fool! DAMN YOU!"**

The mask fell to the ground, shattering into tiny fragments that soon disappeared. I took a moment to let my breathing calm down, then rubbed the back of my head.

Byakuya's. Face. Was. Priceless. _I need a camera._

"Sorry 'bout that," I said easily, as if the whole thing hadn't just happened. "That was an unwelcome interruption." Mentally, I said, _nice acting, Zangetsu._ He scoffed in response.

**_"'S not that hard. Now get on with it."_**

"Very well," Byakuya said. "I won't ask you to explain what that _thing_ was."

**_"I'm not a 'thing', asshole."_**

"I don't think either of us has enough strength to continue this fight for very much longer. We'll finish this off with one final attack."

"All right," I agreed. "But first, let me ask you just one more question. Tell me why. Why wouldn't you save Rukia?"

He was quiet for a brief moment, thinking about my words, a parody of his own. "If you actually succeed in defeating me," he eventually said, "then I will answer that question."

Byakuya adjusted the sword he held and positioned it in front of him. The blades that had been orbiting us the entire time in uninterrupted rows vanished, funneling their power into the single blade Byakuya held in his hands. His spiritual pressure exploded with white energy, which quickly shaped to form two wings connected by a halo-like shape over his head. The spiritual pressure he exerted was strong, but nothing compared to what Aizen had.

"Shūkei: Hakuteiken," he intoned, naming the technique which was reminiscent of a kind of angel.

"That's incredible," I said, and I meant it. No matter how many times I saw it, the sight was awe-inspiring. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have anything amazing to compare to that. Zangetsu only taught me the Getsuga Tenshō."

_"And that is still an incredibly powerful skill."_

_I'm not blaming you for anything, Old Man._

**_"Ya have the other technique, King."_**

_I'm not unsheathing the other blade, and I'm not giving that ability away._

"So the only trick that I really have left now," I continued regardless of my mental conversation, bracing my right arm with my left hand on my wrist, "is to compress all my Reiryoku for one final attack."

Blue-tinged black Reiatsu swirled around me in a menacing display. "Here I come, Kuchiki Byakuya!"

We charged at each other, black and white, and attacked, our two spirit energies colliding in a blinding light show. It happened so quickly that even after all my fighting I could barely pinpoint the moment when Byakuya's blade pierced my flesh; even so, I had staggered a few meters before I could recognize it.

Blood spurted from the new wound in my shoulder and I was forced to use Tensa Zangetsu for support as the wind whipped around me, having picked up in the absence of Byakuya's bankai.

_Sorry, Zangetsu._

_**"Better than fallin'."**  
_

I couldn't afford instant regeneration yet; Aizen was probably watching now that the Senkei had faded. I would have to do it at the last moment, right before Aizen made his grand escape or I would be hunted as the murderer of a loved captain (at least until the bastard's real machinations came to light).

I could hear Byakuya's blood spilling as well, and I turned just enough to see him taking those damn prideful steps away, back straight even as injured as he was. Slowly, he came to a stop, and released the broken petals of Senbonzakura he'd been holding in his hand to the wind. His blood dripped down, staining the rock beneath his feet.

"You wanted to know," he rasped, "why I would allow Rukia to be executed. Criminals must be brought to justice. Once their punishment is decided, it must be carried out. That is the way of the law."

"You honor the law even over the life of your own sister?" I asked, pushing back the pain of my wounds. They were bad, all things considered, but I'd had worse. Much, much worse. At this rate, I would be fine, so long as I was able to heal or get treatment before I bled to death.

"Sympathy towards a relative? What could be more pointless?"

"How can you say that?"

"Feelings and emotions have no value compared to the law. Luckily I've never been burdened by such useless sentiments." He looked over his shoulder, into my eyes. They were surprisingly conflicted. "The Kuchiki clan is one of the four great Noble Families. We're duty-bound to act as examples for all Shinigami. How can we enforce our laws if we ourselves are not willing to obey them?"

_You'll get over that_, I thought wryly. _Eventually.__  
_

"I'm sorry," I said aloud. "But I still can't understand. I swear, even if I were in your position I would fight the law. I would fight until I ended your stupid law!"

He turned away from me and began walking away. "Kurosaki Ichigo, because of your free spirit and reckless abandon you have broken my sword. You have my word; I will pursue Rukia no more. You have won."

And then he vanished in a burst of Shunpo, probably headed to the Fourth Division to get his wounds treated before he collapsed. Wounded pride could only get someone so far.

**_"You like this part."_**

_Only the next few seconds._

I let out a yell of pure emotion; mixing in my triumph, frustration, and anger that I couldn't do everything I needed to without letting others get hurt. I let everyone nearby know that Kurosaki Ichigo had just won a battle against a captain and was well enough to shout about it.

And then I collapsed—or, I would have, had Orihime not been behind me. While I rolled around on the ground, holding my head—for effect, of course—she babbled apologies. Eventually, I stopped and looked at her, pretending to be surprised that she was there, though I did note the blush on her face.

"Orihime? Uryū? Chad? Ganju?" I rolled onto my back, grinning slightly despite how much my chest hurt to see them.

Uryū had died a painful death, Ganju had gone down with the rest of the Shibas in a last-ditch attempt to weaken Aizen's forces, and Orihime . . . I couldn't think about the way she died, not the first time nor the second. All I could remember was the betrayal in her eyes when she realized that I couldn't protect her, that I wasn't strong enough, that her greatest ally couldn't save her. And then there was nothing but empty blankness as her body went limp but she still looked at me, accusing even in death and there was no way I could ever forget her—

_**"King."**_

My sword spirits worked in tandem to calm my storming Reiryoku, simultaneously placating my worries and distracting me from my memories. After a second of spacing out, I dragged my attention back to reality.

"It's good to see you all." At least my voice didn't come out choked.

Uryū frowned slightly. "Kurosaki, you look different." I smirked.

"Side-effect of my bankai training," I explained flippantly with a lightness that I certainly didn't feel. Then, to distract everyone from how I looked, I glanced at Orihime. "Orihime, are you injured?"

She launched into another series of babbles about how no, she wasn't injured, and went on to describe exactly what she had gone through during her adventures in Soul Society when I wasn't around. She finished off by thanking me for surviving; for rescuing Rukia and doing everything I said I would.

My smile softened. "No. Thank you, Orihime." There was a wealth of meaning behind the words that no one present but me understood, and that was fine. There were some things other people didn't ever need to know.

* * *

My musings about how my acting was going were interrupted by a sudden voice in my head that didn't belong to my Zanpakutō. Ganju was helping me down the steps of Sōkyoku hill alongside my friends (and that weird guy from the Eleventh Division), and I pretended not to hear him muttering about how annoyingly heavy I was; much heavier than he had expected.

Well, I was taller and more muscular than I had been the last time we'd talked.

_So it starts, _I thought when I heard the message.

_"All Gotei thirteen captains, lieutenants, and seated officers; may I have your attention please—and also the Ryoka. This is Division Four lieutenant, Kotetsu Isane, with an urgent announcement. Listen closely, as the message will not be repeated. This is an emergency report from Captain Unohana regarding the traitor in our midst. As grim as the following facts are, what I'm about to tell you is the truth . . ."_

She went on to explain everything, and slowly each member of our group stopped. I decided to keep acting; I needed to get up to Sōkyoku hill anyway, and I wasn't in any position to do that now, or at least not yet. I had to keep up appearances.

"You think this is all true?" I asked.

"Maybe," Ganju replied. "But it might also be the enemy's trap."

"Possible," Uryū concurred, "but I think it's probably true." He turned to me. "Don't you sense the Reiatsu that just appeared back up at the execution site?"

"Rukia," I said tightly, not caring that I wasn't as surprised as I was technically supposed to be acting.

Immediately, we were off and running up the stairs, Ganju supporting me the whole way. Waves of anticipation ran through me, echoed by my Zanpakutō spirits. And there was one emotion rising up from my core, fed from the locked box in my mind: cold, unrestrained fury.

I did nothing to stop it as I wordlessly went into bankai and flew ahead of the others, injuries temporarily forgotten.

When I arrived at the top of the infamous, I saw Renji on his knees in front of Aizen, clutching Rukia like a lifeline, Zabimaru sitting broken in his hands. Blood ran down one of his arms and pooled around his legs. With barely a word, I shot across across the hill, Tensa Zangetsu already moving to intercept Aizen's strike. My wounds meant nothing, even though they screamed in agony I clamped down on the pain.

_Just a little longer_.

"Hey there," I said. "What's the matter, Renji? The way you're crouching down, I'd almost think that Rukia was too heavy for you to hold or something. Good thing I came to give you a hand, right friend?"

Pushing Aizen's sword back gave Renji and I time to leap back out of Aizen's reach. Seeing him standing there, so calm, was nigh unbearable, but Old Man Zangetsu soothed me with calmer feelings. Otherwise, I would've gone over the edge. Zangetsu—I couldn't see him, but I could _feel_ him—was trembling with rage at the traitorous captain. Everything I felt, Zangetsu felt even more; I was amazed he wasn't trying to take control with all he was feeling.

Especially rage. And I had that in spades.

"Ichigo," Renji said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to come."

"What happened to you?"

"Huh?"

"All you had to do was carry Rukia and look at you. Either she gained a lot of weight or you're weak 'cause you look all beat up."

My acting skills were the only things keeping my expression as sly as I remembered it being. I wasn't sure if I could hide the emotion in my eyes, but I was trying.

"Hah!" Renji replied. "Look who's talking. Maybe instead of coming here you should've gone back to bed."

Leave it to Renji to get me to feel some good old-fashioned annoyance.

"You got a lot of nerve saying that to the guy who just came here and saved your butt!" I said heatedly.

"I was about to thank you, you idiot but I'm not going to now!"

Suddenly, we both became aware of choking sounds.

_Whoops. I forgot about Rukia . . . _again_._

Renji relaxed his grip on the petite Shinigami, allowing her to breathe. After taking a moment to recover, she all but shouted in Renji's ear.

"Thanks, STUPID!" She yelled, punching Renji in the jaw. Oh, yeah. She was a little bit mad. "Do you think I'm trying to make a new world record for holding my breath? You were crushing the wind out of me! You almost killed me!"

I became aware of Gin speaking to Aizen while Rukia took out her anger on her unfortunate childhood friend.

"Sorry about that. I didn't think you wanted me to interfere, Aizen, so I let the Ryoka get by."

"No matter; it's fine," Aizen responded, his voice damnably smooth. "When you're cleaning the house it doesn't make any difference whether there's one piece of dirt, or two."

Renji and I turned to face him, hearing the insult.

"So, this is Aizen then," I said, barely managing to keep my act together. He was _grinning_. He murdered so many people and the guy had the nerve to smile like he'd just won the fucking lottery and hadn't killed my friends, my family—

_"Stay calm, Ichigo."_

I took a deep, quiet breath and settled my emotions, though my rage kept building.

"That's him," Renji affirmed.**  
**

"Do you think you still have enough strength left to get away?" I asked.

"I have enough to stay and fight, I know that for certain. That's what I'm going to do; you know it's damn useless for us to try and run. Zabimaru may be broken, but he's still got a few surprises left in him. Let's just slow him down enough to get away."

_Renji, you have no idea what you're going up against._

Despite that thought, I let arrogance bleed into my words. "Ha. Who needs a plan B? If we join forces and battle together what could go wrong?"

"Right."

Renji took a few steps away and then raised Zabimaru, putting his hand against the dull edge. "I can only use this technique a single time," he said. "But if it connects, it'll leave him wide open for a second or two. You've _got_ to strike in that opening."

"I gotcha," I responded.

A moment later, Renji raised his blade and then slammed it into the ground, his Reiatsu rising as a red aura surrounded him. "Here we go, Zabimaru! Higa Zekkō!"

All of the broken segments of Zabimaru around Aizen glowed the same red color as Renji's Reiatsu and rose into the air, hovering above Aizen for a split second. Gin took a step forward as the segments blurred with speed, firing down on Aizen in a deadly rain.

As that happened, I darted forward, glowing with my own blue aura. The urge to finish this bullshit now nearly overwhelmed me, but I pushed it back. _Just a little longer . . ._

I swung Tensa Zangetsu, allowing surprise to color my features when Aizen stopped it with a single finger, only because I was channeling only a tiny portion of my Reiatsu into the blade. I itched to fire a Getsuga Tenshō, to blow his head off, but I couldn't. Not yet. This wasn't the right moment.

Blood exploded from a serious wound in my abdomen that I had seen him make this time, and agony tore through my body in fiery streams.

"Well now," Aizen said calmly, still unfazed. "I thought I had succeeded in cutting you completely in half, but I didn't strike deep enough."

He took his hand off Tensa Zangetsu; in my head the embodiment of the blade was screaming in blind fury, destroying buildings in my inner world in a desperate attempt to stop his own hollow instincts from completely overwhelming his rational thought that would in turn overwhelm me.

I collapsed, and as I was falling Aizen vanished, cutting Renji's shoulder as he went before the redhead could so much as blink. He collapsed as well, leaving Rukia open.

My hands slowly curled into fists as I heard Aizen coax Rukia to stand up, lifting her by the collar. I shifted slightly, and Aizen saw.

"Poor dear thing," he mocked. "Is he _actually _still conscious?"

_Yes, because I'm going to tear you to bloody fucking pieces the second you separate Rukia from the Hōgyoku._

"Your stamina is amazing but your spine is barely connected to your body," Aizen stated, sheathing Kyōka Suigetsu. "You should lie still. At any rate, you have each served your purpose. Your job in all this is done now."

"Our job . . . is done?" I bit out, the pain threatening to break out of the meager cage I had trapped it in. _Let him have his moment so I can take it all away from him and tear his world _apart.

"That's correct. I knew you were coming; I even knew from where. I knew you would arrive in the West Rukongai—that's why I had security increased there; the squad members stationed at the gate. I had Gin go there as well, in case something went wrong. I lowered the wall around the Seireitei right after your arrival and placed Third and Ninth Division squads behind the gate. I knew the only way you would be able to get in would be Kūkaku Shiba's cannon, a very flashy entrance that everyone would notice; a bold approach.

"It helped that you Ryoka were skilled enough to get past the captains. As a result, the eyes of all the Shinigami were focused only on you: the perfect diversion. Your actions after you entered the Seireitei and the turmoil you caused were actually quite impressive. As a result, there wasn't very much fuss at all over me when I faked my own death. You made it easy for me to make my move."

"Hold on," I managed. "How did you know that we would come in through the west Rukongai in the first place?"

"That's an odd question for you to ask. Where else can you possibly have entered? The west Rukongai is Urahara Kisuke's headquarters, after all. It's the only place you can break through with a Senkaimon." I forced shock onto my face. "Why do you find that so surprising? After all, you work for him, don't you? Surely the reason you're here in the first place is to retrieve Kuchiki Rukia under his orders."

"I don't—" I began, but Aizen cut me off.

"I see. You poor boy. You weren't told anything, were you?" He smirked, picking up Rukia by the collar again. "Oh well." He started walking away, towards the broken Sōkyoku stand. "Since this is the end anyway, I'll tell you one last thing. Did you know that Shinigami have four basic fighting methods? Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō. Those are the four, but there is a limit to how strong a Shinigami can become in any one of them. No matter with subject he chooses, there comes a point where he will have mastered it, and all his growth will stop there. As a Shinigami, he has reached his limit.

"However, for some, it is possible to get past that wall, and exceed the limit that's built into all four techniques. And to do that, there's only one way. The Shinigami has to become a hollow."

Again, I forced myself to show surprise, even though all I was feeling was disgust and rage. By this point Aizen was stepping past Renji.

"Either that," he continued, "or a hollow can become like a Shinigami. Either way, what is required is the removal of the barrier between those two existences. That is the key to making the spirit's power even greater. In theory the idea seemed plausible; so I studied it in secret. I started testing; focusing mostly of the transformation of hollows into Shinigami. I was successful in creating hollows which came close; hollows that could hide their spiritual pressure, even one that could destroy Zanpakutō with a touch and fuse with other Shinigami."

Rukia looked horrified, and I knew exactly whom she was thinking about.

"But, in the end, none of them worked out as well as I had hoped. It appeared that the theory was only that; destined never to be a reality." He paused. "But, Urahara Kisuke succeeded where I had failed. The mechanism he invented removes the barrier dividing hollow and Shinigami, instantly making one into the other. It defied all logic within Soul Society. It's called Hōgyoku. I knew immediately how dangerous it was. I think Urahara felt the same way; he tried to destroy it, but he was unable to find a way to undo his own creation. Instead, he reluctantly resorted to another method.

"He created a shield around the Hōgyoku, and activated it, then enveloped it deep within a Konpaku in order to hide its location from anyone who would want to use it for evil." He turned to Rukia, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "You know, don't you? You know that's why I want you. Because the place Urahara decided to hide the Hōgyoku is inside you."

Rukia gasped softly, as much as Aizen's suffocating spiritual pressure would allow her too.

_Get it over with already_, I hissed in my own mind. Watching this was nothing short of torture.

"What did . . . you just say?" I said, trying to keep up appearances against my fury and I could _feel_ my inner world in turmoil and my hands were shaking.

"When I learned that you had disappeared in the world of the living," Aizen continued by way of response, "I realized right away that Urahara had something to do with it. All Shinigami in gigai are traceable by Soul Society, no matter where they go. This is because of the gigai's healing energy. But the gigai Urahara gave you was different, created by him without Reishi. As a result, it was untraceable. For this offense, Urahara was cast out of Soul Society. There is also one other reason Urahara was exiled; that gigai, like the one he gave you, one without Reishi, will constantly break down and devour the Reishi of the Shinigami using it. He will never be able to completely recover his power. It will fade, and eventually the connection with the gigai will dim. Finally, the Shinigami is reduced to a mere human. Do you understand? Urahara didn't give you any strength. He didn't help you at all.

"He _used _you, Kuchiki Rukia. He turned you into a human just so he could hide the Hōgyoku. Fortunately, before it was too late, you were found in the human world and arrested. I went immediately to Central Forty-Six and killed—"

Captain Komamura crashed down behind Aizen. There was a flash of a giant blade, and then an explosion of dust. I heard Komamura scream Aizen's name, and felt kind of bad for the captain—Komamura, of course.

I tuned out most of the confrontation, focusing on maintaining the grip I held on the pain my injuries was causing, only pulling myself back to reality when Aizen addressed me again.

"Oh, sorry. I hadn't finished explaining things to you yet, had I?"

"Ichigo!" Uryū called, arriving with the rest of my friends.

"No!" I managed to shout. "Go away!"

"Rukia!" Orihime cried.

"Oh no no," Gin said, moving in front of them. "You shouldn't be moving."

His spiritual pressure slammed down on them, sending my friends crumpling to the ground one by one.

"Now, Kuchiki Rukia," Aizen said. "After I found you in the World of the Living, do you know what the first thing I did was?" She couldn't speak. "I went in and eliminated the Central Forty-Six." He began walking again, dragging Rukia behind him. "I imagine you heard a somewhat different story from Kotetsu Isane. She probably told you I faked my death and hid my whereabouts, and then slaughtered Central Forty-Six. That's not how it happened at all. I killed them as soon as I discovered you, and used my Kyōka Suigetsu on the entire underground assembly hall. To simplify matters, I made it look as though Central Forty-Six were still alive, holding meetings.

"To do that, one of us—" he was referring to Gin, Tōsen, or himself—"remained there at all times. Since then we have taken over the functions of Central Forty-Six, and have been issuing all of their orders. To make sure of your arrest, I had those members of the Sixth Division take you in. To separate you from the humans, I ordered the return and destruction of your gigai. To evaporate your soul, and take the Hōgyoku from inside you, I decided the safest way was to have you executed by the Sōkyoku. The only times we weren't in the Assembly Hall were the few hours around the two Captains' meetings.

"After that, I pretended to die, and hid underground. Because I knew your Ryoka friends might save you, I knew the execution might fail." Aizen reached into his haori as he spoke. "When a foreign object has been planted directly into a soul, there are only two methods by which to remove it: you can use an intense thermal disruption like the Sōkyoku, which evaporates the soul around the object, or some other method which breaks down the soul's cohesion and allows them to be separated. In the unlikely event that the execution by Sōkyoku failed, I needed to find that other method." He pulled a purple cylinder out of his robes.

"Which brings us back to Central Forty-Six. You see, the information I needed could only be found in the underground assembly hall's Daireishokairō. I spent hours poring over Urahara Kisuke's research; he was the one who developed the technique of implanting a foreign object into a soul." He pressed a switch on the cylinder, and air began to circle around it. "So, I reasoned that the answer to the question of how to remove one was also hidden in his research. Yes," Aizen continued, even as green spikes shot up from the ground around him, "this is that answer."

_Sorry, Rukia. It has to be done._

Aizen's right arm turned green and before anyone could react he plunged it into Rukia's chest right as I yelled "NO!" Rukia was still, completely uncomprehending as Aizen pulled the Hōgyoku out from the hole in her chest.

"How fascinating," Aizen said, the green fading from his skin. "I didn't expect it to be so small." He blinked. "The Hōgyoku . . . ah," he said, seeing the hole in Rukia's chest close up. "And no permanent harm to the soul. What an astounding technique. It's too bad," he said, picking up Rukia, "I just don't have a use for you anymore."

"Kill her, Gin."

"Well, if I must," the man answered, turning away from my friends and drawing his Zanpakutō. "Shoot to kill, Shinsō." The blade extended, heading straight for Rukia.

Except.

Byakuya had appeared, pulling Rukia out of Aizen's arms and taking Gin's hit for himself.

"Oh no," Rukia whispered, her eyes wide with shock. "Brother!"

I couldn't watch as Rukia desperately tried to talk to her brother; I was starting to shake; the cage was breaking. Zangetsu was eerily silent in my inner world, and I turned a mental eye to him, seeing the hollow collapsed on the side of a partially destroyed skyscraper, clutching his head and rocking back and forth, trying to keep his deepest instincts at bay. There was little I could do at the moment, but the time was coming.

Kūkaku had arrived, I noted dimly, preventing Aizen from killing Byakuya with a Kidō spell performed while riding on Jidanbō. Then came Yoruichi and Suì-Fēng, followed closely by most of the rest of the Gotei Thirteen lieutenants and captains.

I registered fighting through the haze of pain my wounds had created, then the feeling of a Garganta opening.

_Zangetsu? Old Man?_

_"We are ready, Ichigo."_

Zangetsu uncoiled himself, slowly standing up even as he kept one hand holding his head. He wasn't shaking anymore.

**_"Slice his goddamn head off, King."_**

In the confusion, no one noticed the white material bubbling up around my wounds, healing them in an instant. Not even Aizen; he was too preoccupied by his self-righteousness. Yoruichi and Suì-Fēng were moments away from decapitating him, and even now I wondered why that hadn't just done so immediately.

However, the golden light of the Caja Negación shot down, seemingly making Aizen's escape a certainty. The only way to stop the technique was to close the Garganta it originated from; everyone present seemed to have forgotten that fact, preoccupied with the wounded and the words Aizen had spoken

I stood, Tensa Zangetsu dangling in my right hand by the chain as the Menos appeared in the Garganta, white hands reaching out and grasping at air as equally white faces stared mournfully down at the assembled Shinigami. For a moment, there was nothing but a light breeze moving, sending the entirety of Sōkyoku hill into a breathless kind of tension.

Then I struck.

Not even Yoruichi saw what I did; I had surpassed her long ago. Everyone was distracted, but Aizen was well aware of the moment the Garganta closed, every Menos inside of it—even that big monster lurking in the back—cut to pieces. The gold light flickered and died, sending Aizen, Gin, and Tōsen back to the ground as the Garganta slammed shut.

"Sorry, Aizen," I growled, not sorry in the slightest, appearing in front of the traitor when he landed. I channeled every single bit of hate and rage and frustration and _malice_ into the glare I sent him, letting Zangetsu bleed into my appearance and turn my eyes black and gold and make my voice layered. My full spiritual pressure—everything that I could throw into regular bankai—was pressing down on Aizen, and I saw his face redden as he struggled to breathe, much less move. It was so damn satisfying to see him tremble under my rage, to see his calm mask crack and break under the force of my hatred. **"But you won't be going anywhere but Hell."**

I would remember his face at that moment for the rest of my life. Complete and utter shock was the last expression he ever showed before I stabbed him through the heart, Tensa Zangetsu sliding through his ribcage and bursting out his back in a shower of blood. For good measure, I channeled my Reiatsu into Tensa Zangetsu while Aizen was still impaled on the blade.

**"Getsuga Tenshō."**

The explosion was nothing short of brilliant.

* * *

_A/N I hope this chapter gets the point across: Ichigo is more unhinged than he seems. He's got serious anger issues (though remarkable control), and some form of PTSD. Poor guy's only sane because of Zangetsu and Old Man Zangetsu. Out __of curiosity, do you guys think the way I portray Ichigo's thoughts (the way they get all hurried and jumbled) works with the story?_

**_Reviews:_**

**_The Unknown ShiniGami: _**_Consider Aizen pwned._

**_Souseiki no Tasogare:_**_ Thank you for the kind words and I hope you enjoyed!_

**_Moon's last stand: _**_I hope _Rewind_ satisfied your craving, if you see what I'm getting at._

**_Not-Gonna-Update:_**_ Thank you, and Ichigo definitely had his fun._

**_Chrizburrow: _**_Thank you! After reading the latest manga I got frustrated searching for "true Zangetsu" stories, so I can understand how hard they are to find!_

_Well, that's it for the reviews on the previous chapter. I look forward to hearing from you guys! _

_As a side note, this story has (as of me writing this note) 45 favorites and 84 follows. Those of you that have followed/favorited should consider reviewing if you're able, though any kind of support is always welcome!_

_Obviously, the serious canon divergence starts next chapter._

_Until next time,_

_-RoR_

_Please review._


	4. Chapter 4

_Ah, you guys really like this fic. It's my most popular one and the mollifying thing is that it isn't even a main story. For those of you who are worried about the status of _Ichigo, Meet Ichigo_, there's no need to. I can go for at least four more weeks before I would need to take a break._

_Side note: SCHOOL WILL NOT BREAK ME. Yes, story followers/favoriters/readers. I have beaten back the monster that is AP Euro, at least for the moment. I have fears that it will return, however. Alongside English, math, and a whole slew of subjects I'd rather avoid._

_But whatever. I have this chapter to tide you guys over for at least a month._

_Side note: this is for you, random guy who literally just followed/favorited right as I was typing out this author's note._

_I hope I've made it clear that I do not own Bleach._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 4

"Ichimaru Gin," I said, quickly turning away from where Aizen's body had been disintegrated in the heat of my Getsuga Tenshō. I had only moments before the Shinigami got their wits back. "We've gotta talk. You too, Tōsen Kaname."

And then, before anyone could protest otherwise—half of them didn't even realize what had happened, too focused on the explosion to realize the source, and the other half were too dazed or confused to process what I was doing—I sheathed Zangetsu, grabbed both of the men in question and vanished using Shunido, my personal blend of Shunpo and Sonido that had taken me a full year to perfect. To the audience (save Yoruichi), I simply disappeared.

As I dragged them along at speeds that rendered them helpless to do anything but hang limply in my grip, I materialized Zangetsu, who immediately began running alongside me. Vaguely, I was aware of Gin's eyes opening, a rare demonstration of how caught off-guard he was.

"Oi, Zangetsu," I said. "I need you to carry Gin."

He scoffed. **"I'm not a pac mule, King."**

"Just do it."

**"Fine."**

He grabbed Gin, and Immediately I picked up speed due to the decreased weight. After another two minutes of sprinting, I judged that we were where I wanted to be, so I dumped the two ex-captains on the ground with as little ceremony as possible. Amazingly, they were both calm, and hiding their nausea pretty well, though the green tint to Gin's face belied his tranquility.

"My, my," Gin said, staring at me with his smile in place. "What an interestin' development, Kurosaki Ichigo. I'd never have expected ya t' be the one t' take down Aizen. Of course, that means that I should probably get revenge—" He started to move to draw his sword, but then Zangetsu was there, holding Shinsō in a mocking grip.

**"Looking for this?" **He asked, twirling the blade.

"Sit down, Gin," I ordered. "You too, Tōsen."

"What, so I'm 'Gin' and he's 'Tōsen', not 'Kaname'?"

I stared at him, letting my gaze grow cold as I dredged up more memories of the war; the day when Gin had finally awoken from his coma and agreed to fight for the Gotei 13; the day Gin saved Rangiku's life in exchange for his own; the day of the mass funeral, when Gin's haori had been given to a Rangiku who had run out of tears long before.

Gin's smile disappeared slowly as a scowl made its way onto my face.

"Listen up, asshole," I said, wordlessly nodding to Zangetsu, who rolled his eyes but nonetheless grabbed Tōsen and left, taking Gin's Zanpakutō with him. "There's some shit we need to talk about."

"Would that be yer appearance?" He inquired. "'Cause ya look taller than I remember."

"Oh, trust me," I growled. "This is nothing." I shifted my Shihakushō—which I had torn up to the shoulders on my way over to Sōkyoku hill because I could—to reveal the lattice of scars over my heart. They weren't as physically intimidating as the one on my back, but they got the job done. I could show the ones hidden by the collar on my neck, but I chose not to. "These are from when Aizen wanted to see how serious of a wound Instant Regeneration could heal." My voice was frosty when I spoke, and I knew tendrils of black were creeping over my eyes.

Gin's expression was shocked, though anyone who didn't know him well enough wouldn't think so.

"What are you sayin'?" He asked. I let my robes fall back into place and smirked.

"You got your opportunity to kill Aizen, Gin," I said. "You used your bankai, stabbed him through the heart, and blew a hole in his chest with that poison of yours. Then you grabbed the Hōgyoku and got away."

Now he was definitely surprised.

"Except that didn't kill Aizen. He hunted you down and tried to kill you; Rangiku cried over your body, Gin. She thought you had died, and she cursed you to Hell and back for what you did. The only thing she wanted to know was why you didn't trust her enough to tell her."

"How do you know this?" He asked, serious enough to drop his accent. His eyes were wide open, and their blue color was still shocking to me, no matter how many times I'd seen it.

I grinned humorlessly. "Let's just go with 'time travel' and leave it at that. Now, you've got two options: I can kill you where you stand and leave the Gotei Thirteen to find your body, or you can go back to Sōkyoku hill and weasel yourself out of whatever trouble you got into."

Gin was silent for a moment.

"One other thing," I added, gesturing to the area around us. It was a flat plain with mountains in the distance, completely devoid of life; one of the farthest reaches of known Soul Society. "This area is where you tried to kill Aizen, and where he nearly killed everyone I hold dear; the beginning point of the real war. Think about that while you make your decision."

In a burst of Shunido, I vanished, instinctively knowing that Gin wasn't going to go anywhere. I would know if he did, and it wouldn't be pretty.

I found Zangetsu and Tōsen about a kilometer away, with Zangetsu twirling his shikai blade by the chain, the sword coming within a millimeter of Tōsen's skin. The man wasn't moving, and I saw noticeable cuts all over his body, probably souvenirs of all the times he _did_ try moving.

Gin's Zanpakutō was in the ground a few meters away, stuck there point-first.

"Tōsen," I greeted flatly. The blind man turned to me, expressionless.

"Ryoka," he replied. I rolled my eyes.

"We both know that the whole 'Ryoka' thing is a bunch a bullshit courtesy of Aizen. Anyway, that's not what I want to talk to you about. And Zangetsu, stop spinning your blade like that. You're going to accidentally decapitate him."

**"I don't do anything on accident," **Zangetsu growled, but nevertheless he complied.

"Why should I endeavor to speak to the boy who cut down the man I followed?" Tōsen answered, cocking his head slightly.

"Technically, I blew him up," I answered coldly. "Tōsen, I'm giving you one chance. I know you like to follow the path of justice; Aizen's path was so far from that I'm surprised even a blind person like you couldn't see it."

"Aizen was a man of great honor."

Zangetsu growled low in his throat.

"No, he really wasn't," I snapped. "In my timeline—because if you haven't already figured it out, _Tōsen_, I'm from the goddamn future—Aizen slaughters hundreds of thousands of innocent souls for the sake of his war and he even kills you when you try to renounce your ways in your dying moments. He tore children away from families, turned wandering plus souls into hollows with no guilt whatsoever, and killed nearly everyone I knew. Tell me, Tōsen. Was the justice in the deaths he caused? The Shinigami he slaughtered? The hollows he created? Or was it all in the way that he did it for himself?"

I smiled humorlessly even though Tōsen couldn't see my expression.

"I haven't figured it out yet. Care to enlighten me? I only had eight years of war to think about it."

Tōsen's expression tightened, but he didn't say anything.

"Are you going to explain yourself to Komamura and Hisagi?" I asked mildly, giving the blind captain his last chance at redemption. I was only willing to give him this much; I didn't want him doing anything behind my back later, because I'd already had far too much experience with that.

"They would not understand."

I exchanged a glance with Zangetsu. He shrugged, unsheathed the blade he carried on his back and held it to Tōsen's throat. I made no move to stop him, having had to perform this kind of execution myself countless times on Shinigami who tried to defect to Aizen's side mid-battle. Already, I had thought of a suitable story as to why Tōsen would end up as a bloody heap.

Gin would help me; I hadn't been extremely close with him, but I knew that he had never liked or trusted Tōsen and had no qualms about killing the man once it was obvious that Aizen had sunk his claws far too deeply into the captain.

Distantly, I thought of a quote that Hisagi had once told me, back when we fought in the same strike team.

Whoever fights monsters should be careful that in the process he does not become a monster all his own.

The memories made a sad smile grace my lips. Sorry, Hisagi.

"Last words?" I asked, at least wanting to give Tōsen some dignity. To his credit, he was completely calm. He turned towards me, heedless of the blade at his throat. When he spoke, his words were calm and measured, like he had thought them countless times.

"No matter the circumstance," Tōsen said gravely, "I shall walk the path of justice. Monsters and men will not deter me from my path."

I blinked, hesitated for a few seconds, and then groaned. Zangetsu, sensing my thoughts, let out an annoyed breath.

**"We're not gonna kill 'im, are we?" **He asked, disappointed.

"This is a do-over," I replied after a beat, knocking Tōsen out as I spoke. I did it more roughly than necessary, and the cuts already on Tōsen's body courtesy of Zangetsu made it look as though he had gone down with a struggle. "I don't want to leave a trail of bodies if I don't have to."

**"And if ya have t' kill?"**

I smiled, razor-sharp. "Then I will."

* * *

I took a deep breath and leaned back, resting my head against the wall. I was currently staying in the Fourth Division, after spending three whole days under interrogation from Head Captain Yamamoto and a _way _too suspicious Suì-Fēng, both of whom bought my story after nitpicking every single moment of it and nearly making me break out of the place just so I could get some fresh air.

Confined spaces and I really didn't work out, and only the constant soothing of Zangetsu and the Old Man had stopped me from snapping.

I had gone with the story that my injury had not been as bad as it had seemed, and I was conserving energy to try and strike back at Aizen. Yoruichi, while training me, had told me about Garganta and how to destabilize them—I chose the option of destabilizing the Garganta rather than completely obliterating it—so I used a covert Getsuga Tenshō to close the portal to Hueco Mundo and stop Aizen's escape. After that I claimed that Zangetsu and I had temporarily fused in order to get enough power to catch Aizen off-guard with one final attack, after which Gin and Tōsen took me away as revenge.

At that point, Tōsen tried to attack me, only to be stopped and knocked out by Gin after a brief struggle. Then Gin alerted the rest of the Gotei 13, got himself interrogated, and somehow everything worked out. After that, I played dumb; after all, I was nothing more than a human teenager, and couldn't _possibly_ be smarter or know more than a _captain_.

Sometimes, the skill with which I had learned to lie was disturbing. Maybe it came from comforting helpless and shattered Shinigami forced on the frontlines years too soon only to see their friends hacked to pieces right in front of them.

Gin had gotten off with the Shinigami captain equivalent of a slap on the wrist: docked pay and observation for a few months. Tōsen, on the other hand was imprisoned. Even I wasn't sure where he had gone; Hisagi and Komamura had taken the news surprisingly well, especially after they found out Tōsen's last words.

They simply looked disappointed and very, very tired. Of course, judging from their turbulent Reiatsu, I knew they were trying and failing to disguise or stifle their emotions. I knew from experience that suppressing emotions was a very bad idea, but I wasn't really in a position to reprimand a captain and a lieutenant when I was supposed to be a brash sixteen-year-old.

On the bright side, the Gotei 13 seemed anxious to cover up the Aizen Incident, as they had dubbed it (and the number of buildings I had destroyed in my inner world after hearing that was in the hundreds because you couldn't take the damn Winter War and turn it into a fucking _incident_ like someone dropping their Zanpakutō or tearing their Haori).

After commending me for my actions (though the guy made it sound like pulling teeth), Yamamoto had said I was free to leave, but he clearly meant that he wanted my friends and I to leave as soon as our new friends would let us.

Really, I was spending the entire four days hiding from Kenpachi. I wasn't sure what Uryū and Orihime and Chad were up to, but whatever it was had to be more fun than running from a homicidal maniac with no understanding of the word "restraint".

On the bright side, we were leaving Soul Society that day. I'd already solidified my friendship with Renji and Rukia—and damn had that made me want to throw up from all the flashbacks of the times Renji and Rukia had hauled me out of trouble and supported me even as I was falling apart from stress and trauma—and there was only an hour or so left before I was supposed to head over to the Senkaimon.

A familiar, monstrous Reiatsu suddenly pressed down on the building I had taken shelter in and I cursed, wondering how Zaraki had managed to track me down so quickly; normally, the guy could barely find his way to the First Division. While he was a complete monster during the war, he'd never done well in "normal" settings.

Last night I had to act surprised when Rukia announced that she wasn't coming back with us to the World of the Living after spending nearly half the day searching for her with Orihime—barging in on Byakuya's sick room and acting like it was no big deal was as satisfying as I remember.

The dinner at Kūkaku's place was pretty entertaining, minus the fact that I accidentally punched Ganju across the room when he got a little too rough with me which caused my instincts to kick in.

Twice.

I had to force myself not to physically roll my eyes when Ukitake handed me my Substitute Soul Reaper badge, and then I smiled when Orihime gave (forced) Uryū's dress to Rukia.

The good-bye to Rukia wasn't as awkward as I remember, but the distractions made me forget one crucial detail about the trip back to the world of the living: the Kotetsu.

Zangetsu was very helpful in supplying phrases for me to spit at Yoruichi, who either pretended not to or didn't hear me as we sprinted through the Dangai, the Purple Train of Death hot on our heels.

Needless to say, being made into a human baseball was even less fun the second time, especially since Ishida's surprisingly sharp elbow was digging into my abdomen the entire time before we landed on Urahara's weird flying carpet thing.

Urahara's apology was somewhat mollifying, even though I really wasn't mad at him. I had felt Yoruichi's eyes on me the entire way back, and I knew that she didn't miss the way I flinched when Urahara apologized to me, or the way my hands clenched into fists when I first laid eyes on him.

Seeing my dead friends alive again hurt. Seeing a much less burdened, a much _freer_ Urahara was just plain painful, because I knew exactly what he looked like when pushed beyond the breaking point, and I couldn't help but compare the two images in my head and realize that the contrast was terrible.

I wasn't ashamed that I spent the entire following night by the river, staring at the exact spot where Grand Fisher had permanently changed my life.

Maybe the dead shouldn't screw with the living, not the other way around.

* * *

The return to normal life was jarring, to say the least. I knew my dad suspected something was off; for the complete idiot he was, Isshin was far from stupid and he hadn't been a captain for nothing. However, he seemed to assume that the new seriousness that coated every action I did despite my best efforts was from Soul Society. It was difficult to completely change the way I moved after all, especially since I had trained with masters of stealth in order to perfect moving silently even when I wasn't intentionally trying to do so.

The hardest part was my new appearance, not to mention the new appearance of Zangetsu. I brushed off both by claiming bankai training and achieving bankai caused the changes, and consistently changed the subject every time someone tried to press the issue. Uryū, Chad, and Orihime bought it (Uryū with more than a little doubt), and I found that it was disturbingly easy to go back to my old life.

Of course, every single action made me want to punch the nearest wall with how _normal_ it was.

There was no war.

People weren't dying in droves; I didn't see Orihime break twice over when Tatsuki was killed.

There was no war.

Chad would never break his oath when he was the last one standing in his group and had no other choice but to fight back and always feel guilty about it, would never even doubt me if I told him that he was doing it for my sake, not his own.

There was no war.

Uryū wouldn't have to pull every Quincy trick out of his bag and even invent a few new ones himself just to stay alive, only to die anyway.

There was no war.

**_"Oi, King. You're repeatin' yerself."_**

_Yeah._

I felt a slight pull in my head, and then I was gone from my silent room and in my inner world, which was cloudy, a stark contrast from the painfully clear night sky outside. I inhaled deeply, taking in the distinctive scent that signified rain. Occasionally I felt raindrops splatter against my skin, but the tight reign I held on my emotions prevented an outright downpour. Distant rolls of thunder shook the skyscraper I stood on, and caused the flagpole a familiar figure was standing on to rattle slightly.

"Old Man," I acknowledged, nodding in his direction. The embodiment of my Quincy powers nodded back, his expression drawn and serious as his pitch-black cloak billowed in the wind that whipped through the air. Shifting my gaze slightly, I saw the white copy of me standing a few meters away with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

It was strange, I thought, how Zangetsu had become more like me in the way that he acted. His bouts of insanity were still plentiful, but now he took to scowling when he was serious or concerned instead of smiling more disturbingly than Gin. On the flipside, I had adopted some of his mannerisms as well.

As they say, war makes monsters of men. But does that make men of monsters as well?

The rain began to come down in earnest, and Zangetsu's scowl deepened.

**"Yer not even gonna acknowledge me, King?"** He drawled, tilting his head as his eyes flashed dangerously.

"Sorry," I replied, sitting down on the building's cold surface and not even caring that it was wet. "I'm just preoccupied."

**"I noticed."**

Zangetsu moved to stand next to me and looked down, still scowling.

"What?"

**"Ya can't sulk like this, King. Yeah, ya went through a war an' things were pretty shitty for most of it, but ya have another chance t' fix it."**

"You may have lost the bonds you once had," Old Man Zangetsu added, his deeper baritone more gentle than the hollow's harsh double voice as he regarded me, "but you have a chance to build new ones. You may never get back what you have lost, Ichigo, but this was your choice. You chose to move forward; you cannot look back, or you will hesitate at the wrong moment and meet your end."

I sighed, tilting my head up and letting the cool rain splash against my face and run in small rivulets across my skin. My hair was already plastered against my neck and forehead, and I absently brushed a stray strand away from my eyes.

"You are upset about killing Aizen," Old Man Zangetsu observed, his observant nature not missing anything in my actions. I rubbed my forehead.

"I guess. It's just . . . I thought, after so long, I would feel . . . _better_. Less . . . heavy. I mean, killing him was so damn satisfying yet I don't feel any different. Aizen—_Aizen_—is dead before he could kill—before he could start the war, and everyone's safe. But nothing feels like it's changed. And—" the words tasted so bitter on my tongue, and not even the rain could wash them away, "I don't know what to do."

During the war, I had been a leader, a general in the army who never hesitated on an order and handled thousands of lives on a daily basis like pieces on a chessboard. I fought in more battles than any other Shinigami, lost countless nights' sleep and ate so little that starvation always loomed on the horizon, and even after six months of recovery and time in Soul Society, the sight of Yuzu's cooking made me want to flinch and hit something at the same time.

Aizen had put me—and everyone I held close to me—through countless days and nights of hell, and at the time he finally died in the future timeline it felt rather pointless, more of a parting gesture than the death of the greatest villain Soul Society had ever seen.

I felt insulted more than I felt vindicated.

I realized it was impossible not to lose a part of yourself, somewhere between manipulating other people like nothing more than objects and hearing them screaming on the battlefield. I slowly fell apart in such gradual increments that by the time I noticed there was nothing I could do to be whole again, no matter how much those around me tried to pick up the scattered pieces.

Zangetsu sat down beside me, his jaw clenched while he stared off at the distant horizon, nearly indistinguishable from the gray clouds that perpetually coated the skies above. Any discomfort I felt at seeing an inverted clone of myself had disappeared years ago, and now I took his appearance in stride.

**"I dunno what I'm supposed t' say," **he admitted. **"I wanna fight ya, see if I can get ya t' focus on somethin' other than Aizen." **Zangetsu's voice when he said Aizen's name dripped with pure venom. He glanced at me, expression twisting. **"But I know that's not what ya need. Yer head's in a bad place, King, an' I don't know what to do about that.**

**"What I do know is that ya finally killed the bastard, before anyone else got hurt. Ya did what ya came here t' do, and you're gonna have t' live with the consequences. You're always gonna think of the future an' what you've lost; there's nothin' I can do t' stop that. But ya need to focus on the _now_, King. Otherwise you'll lose yerself all over again, an' I don't wanna go through that shit storm again."**

All things considered, that had to be one of the most supportive things Zangetsu had ever said to me, and I could count the number of times he'd talked to me without using insults on the fingers of one hand.

"I get that," I said quietly. "I made my decision, and I know there's no going back. But . . . I never realized how much it would hurt just to see everyone alive and—and—"

"Unburdened?" Old Man Zangetsu supplied, expression even graver than it had been minutes earlier. The rain didn't seem to affect the coat he wore in the slightest, I noted absently.

"Yeah. Kisuke—ah, Urahara is so much more confident now. He thinks he knows what's going to happen."

**"You gonna tell him about yer situation?"**

I let a small smile play across my lips, a flicker of amusement pulling at me. "It'll be more entertaining if he figures it out himself, I think. I want to see how long it'll take him to confront me."

"That will breed distrust, no matter how slight," Old Man Zangetsu cautioned, ever the voice of reason. I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the point.

"I know, but I'm considering it payback for all the lying and crap Ki—Urahara put me through the first time around." My eyes flashed dangerously, accompanied by a burst of lightning in the distance. "I don't like being shaped into a weapon of last resort."

The rain came down harder, but after I calmed myself down the downpour lightened into a drizzle. The clouds stayed, however.

I still couldn't help the way my thoughts strayed to the war. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see flashes of battles; a sword swinging at my head from an Arrancar or Aizen himself, blood spraying in the air, even phantom pains from wounds long since healed.

The ache in my chest increased, and my breathing stuttered slightly.

My mirror image at my side abruptly stood up, scowling.

**"Enough of this."**

Zangetsu reached down and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet.

"What are you—?" I started, intending to push him away (because no matter how much I knew that the guy was on my side he had a bad habit of using the most violent methods possible), but I was too late.

In one smooth motion, Zangetsu hurled me off the side of the building.

I didn't scream or react in any way; instead, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the freefall. In better times, I had jumped off the sides of the buildings in my inner world, using my improving control of Reishi (which apparently existed in Inner Worlds) to slow and stop my descents. However, at my level of power, hitting the ground would bruise me at the very worst if only gravity had pulled me down. When someone threw me, it was a different story, but Zangetsu hadn't been trying to hurt me.

Probably.

For a few moments, I felt weightless, suspended in the air in the same way as a raindrop, for once without the ominous burden that I held on my shoulders like my birthright.

And then I hit water, and reality came crashing back with a cold shock that drove the breath from my body in an explosive gasp and freezing, cloudy water surrounded me, filling my nose and choking me. I coughed, instinctively inhaling only to find that there was _water_ and I _couldn't _and—

**"Breathe, idiot!"**

Distantly, I saw Zangetsu crash into the water near me in an explosion of bubbles; his expression was more irate than it had been in a while.

After following his directions, I calmed down enough for rational thought to return. When it did, and my vision cleared without the narrowed focus that panic created, I could see my surroundings in the water that had cleared from the bubbles my landing had created.

Clearly, I was still in my inner world, judging from the bottoms of skyscrapers that I was seeing. However, other details caught my attention. There were trees planted around the streets, perfectly made sidewalks and every street sign necessary.

None of this was new to me; I was simply surprised that I was seeing it when I was underwater.

In fact, now that I was aware, I could see that the water only stretched a meter or so above my head. It was incredible that I hadn't hit the street when I landed, though I might have and not noticed.

"Zangetsu, what is this?" I asked, rapidly becoming accustomed to breathing underwater. My inner world had practically been a model of that drowned city I'd once read about—Atlantis?—during the war. It was never sunny.

Still wasn't, as a matter of fact.

**"Yer mopin' and sulkin' the past few days has got yer world drowned all over again," **Zangetsu spat.

"But I've kept everything under control," I responded, sitting down and materializing Zangetsu's blade form on my back so that I would be weighed down in the water and not float up. "My emotions—"

"Are still there," Old Man Zangetsu said, drifting down to standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "You may have your emotions under control, Ichigo, but they are most certainly still there."

**"An' with everyone around, you're clampin' down on 'em more than normal. That's only makin' things worse."**

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I clenched my right hand into a fist, closing my eyes and letting out a deep breath to try and vent some of my frustration. "I don't know how to . . . how to deal with my emotions."

Old Man Zangetsu sighed. "Ichigo, there has been one figure in your life whom you trust more than anyone. Speak with her, and you may yet find peace."

Zangetsu grunted his agreement, none-too-gently slugging me on the shoulder. **"Get outta here, King. Yer time with yer subjects is up." ** His eyes sparkled with mischief. **"Ya killed Aizen. Now live yer life."**

I was shoved from my inner world with the mental image of Zangetsu smirking, something akin to pride glowing in his eyes.

* * *

Heeding the advice of my Zanpakutō, I visited my mother's grave the next morning after breakfast, deciding to skip the school day. Contrary to my inner world, the weather outside was sunny and warm, so I dressed in one of my many Nice Vibe t-shirts and pants, trying not to reveal how uncomfortable the normal clothes made me feel even after days of wearing them.

I was so used to the feel of a Shihakushō anything else felt unnatural and stifling.

"Hey, Mom," I said quietly, seated in front of Masaki's gravestone. The cemetery was quiet save for a few birds chirping in the distance and a light breeze rustling through the treetops, and I took comfort in the relative silence. Zangetsu, materialized without his blades, was leaning against my back in the same position and facing the opposite direction, keeping watch.

Already, I felt slightly better. No matter how much time passed or what happened, talking to the grave was strangely calming for me. Awkwardly, I continued.

"I, um, haven't been here in a while."

I took a deep breath even as my heart began to beat the slightest bit faster. "I don't know if you should be proud of me or not, but . . ."

"You're not going to believe what's happened," I continued, trusting that my Zanpakutō would warn me if anyone got too close. "I mean, technically most of it hasn't and never will happen, but I don't' think that matters. Anyway, I think you should know, because I've kept you out of the loop too much lately."

I kept talking, describing my adventures with Rukia and Renji in Hueco Mundo, the betrayal of Captain Amagai, the Zanpakutō rebellion, and everything else that came to mind. As I talked, Zangetsu hummed near-silently in approval or support, accompanied by waves of soothing Reiatsu from the Old Man.

Really, this was the best therapy for me. I knew it, Zangetsu knew it, and Old Man Zangetsu knew it.

Mom was always willing to listen.

When I went on to describe the war, I chose my words much more carefully. There were still some things—like the tender graces of Aizen's personal care—which I needed to skip over or risk having a flashback episode that my sword spirits couldn't drag me out of. But I did talk about Kenpachi, and how we strangely bonded over fights that stretched on for days and I discovered that he was a hell of a lot more intelligent than he let on, that while he wasn't a genius he was unrivalled when it came to impromptu battle tactics.

I talked about how Rukia and Renji achieved (or in Renji's case, renamed) bankai, and then described their final forms because I was still impressed with them even though they only used them for a short amount of time.

I told stories about the Soul King Palace and the Zero Division, as well as how I found out the true identity of Zangetsu.

I grew a little wistful when I told the tale of my father informing me about my true origins, and then bitter when I described his end. I echoed his last words: "Live well, Ichigo, and die happy."

Dammit, the old bastard had been serious in his final moments but I would always remember him as half crazy and far too spontaneous.

Briefly, I mentioned that Yuzu and Karin had passed away as well, but I couldn't get more than ten words in before words failed me, and my voice trailed away to nothing. There was no way for me to continue; that was the pinnacle moment, when I had failed at everything my name meant, when I hadn't been the big brother that my younger sisters had so desperately needed.

Zangetsu offered wordless support and shifted slightly, and I continued, pouring out everything that happened to me, the months I spent pulling myself together, the time Urahara spent shut away in his lab, and the final journey I took through the modified Senkaimon.

By the time I stopped speaking, my voice was hoarse from talking so much after so many months of little use; calling out orders and fighting was far different than pouring out your life story.

It was the first time I'd really recounted the war without skipping over nearly everything, and that knowledge was a little depressing. At the same time, I felt the weight that had rested on my shoulders ease slightly, as though some of the responsibility I carried for the war had lifted. It was a strange feeling, but I welcomed it.

After about ten minutes of muted silence, in which even the graveyard itself seemed to be respecting all that had happened, Zangetsu spoke, his voice unusually soft.

**"You good, King?"**

I took a deep breath, scanning my mother's gravestone and imprinting it in my memory over the mental picture I had of that same grave destroyed, nothing more than a patch of rubble in a decimated town.

This was a new life. I had to remember that.

"Yeah." There was a wealth of emotion in that one word that I didn't bother to examine. "I'm good."

I felt Zangetsu shift, and then he was standing up. He offered his hand and I took it, allowing myself to be pulled to my feet. After searching my face for a few seconds, Zangetsu grinned in his usual unsettling way, apparently having found what he was looking for.

**"Good t' have ya back."**

And then he vanished, returning to my inner world.

_"Are you ready, Ichigo?"_

_Yeah, Old Man._

_"Yoruichi is at the edge of the graveyard."_

**_"She thinks she can hide her Reiatsu. Funny."_**

Rolling my eyes and then schooling my expression into its usual blankness, I turned around and stuffed my hands into my pockets. After casting out my senses, I picked up a distinctly feline signature making its way in my direction. Mentally counting, I got all the way to fifteen seconds before a black cat crested the hill nearby and trotted in my direction, eventually sitting on its haunches in front of me, regarding me with yellow eyes.

"Shihōin Yoruichi," I said evenly. She tilted her head.

"Ichigo. What are you doing here?"

I flicked my gaze to my mom's gravestone and back, slowly allowing one eyebrow to creep up. Yoruichi got the message.

"Ah, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." My expression returned to normal. "What brings you here, Shihōin?"

"Simply call me Yoruichi, Ichigo. You did it before; hearing you call me Shihōin is simply odd."

"Fine, Yoruichi. But you didn't answer my question."

The cat was silent for a moment. "I was curious. What are you going to do now? You killed Aizen, which was apparently your entire mission when you came back. Did you plan for after that?"

I smiled humorlessly. "You know me, Yoruichi."

It was difficult to read her expression when she wasn't human. "I knew the old you, Ichigo. I hate to sound cliché, but I do not know you now."

The only indication I gave of how her words stung was a slight tightening of my expression, but I let it slide. "Well, that doesn't matter. I know what I'm going to do." I looked up, checking the position of the sun. "In fact, there's something I have to do right now. Yoruichi, can you bring my body to Kis—Urahara's shop?"

"Sure, Ichigo, but how are you going to get out of—?"

I grinned thinly, took a deep breath, and concentrated for a split second on the tenuous connection between my soul and body. With practiced ease, I severed that connection, and stepped out of my body in full Shinigami attire.

Admittedly, since my body was still growing and adjusting to my soul's new appearance, the experience was much stranger than I remembered. Not to mention that I had died in my timeline, so my body was much more difficult to enter and exit than it had been during the war (at least, when the war was in early enough stages that I had time to be in my body).

My body slumped to the ground as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, and I winced when my forehead slammed into the brick walkway.

_Whoops._

Yoruichi was a cat, but even I could see the confusion and slyness that slid into her expression. I knew exactly what was coming next: she was going to try and make me feel uncomfortable, preferably with much spluttering and flushing.

"Ichigo, are you sure you want me . . . _handling_ your body? After all, I will need to switch to human form to do so, and I don't have any clothes with me at the moment." Her eyes sparkled. "Unless, of course, you _do_ want me to?"

"Do what you want, Yoruichi," I replied easily. "But please try to remember that I am still a virgin in this timeline. You wouldn't want to spoil that, would you?"

This time, Yoruichi was the one spluttering.

"If anyone asks where I am," I continued as if I hadn't said anything at all, "tell them I'm having one of my sulking days and don't want to be disturbed."

"Kisuke will see your body," Yoruichi pointed out, recovering her wits. I smirked.

"Let him draw his own conclusions." I cocked my head. "Unless you don't want to pull one over on the master of pulling things over?"

Yoruichi's grin rivaled Zangetsu's. "Of course not. I will see you when you get back, Ichigo." She frowned. "Which reminds me, where are you going, exactly?"

"Hueco Mundo."

I had ripped open a Garganta and jumped through it before the Flash Goddess could formulate her next words, leaving her gaping next to my soulless body. I had to think that the expression was out of place on a cat's face, but then darkness swallowed me up and my attention was diverted away from the world I left behind.

Time to deal with the Arrancar.

* * *

_A/N There we go. Yeah, I kind of followed canon for this, but I really wanted to write that inner world scene because frankly, Ichigo needed it. And I like Zangetsu, so the inner hollow got his own time to shine._

**_Reviews:_**

**_Usagi-Chin: _**_I'm happy you like this fic, and I hope you enjoyed the update!_

**_Guest:_**_ Glad you like it!_

**_WBE:_**_ I don't know what to say here, other than "I did"._

**_kurgaya:_**_ I hope the chapter met your expectations!_

**_Moon's last stand:_**_ that ending was _so_ satisfying to write. I hope it was just as much so to read._

**_ThatGuy16:_**_ Man, I hope your assignments went OK. Go school! *throws confetti into the air with completely straight face*_

**_Not-Gonna-Update:_**_ Hm you're setting the bar pretty high for me. Your encouragement is appreciated!_

**_Gulliman:_**_ I'll do what I can to keep writing this story._

**_Qwerty321:_**_ Bottom line, AP summer work sucks._

**_Rosco Peeko Trane:_**_ well, I'm happy that you took the time to say that much, even if you don't think it had anything of value._

**_EmptySurface: _**_Aizen leaving and Aizen dying would end up the same way (until the Arrancar arc, of course), so I just went with that. Except for Tosen and Gin, of course._

**_jcampbellohten:_**_ watch the language in your reviews, please .-. Other than that, thank you!_

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**_God of Spirits-Spirit Black: _**_Your wish has been granted._

**_blacklegend99:_**_ Review:informative, four and a half stars. Provides effective feedback, grammar questionable but clearly relays message. Comments: Thank you!_

_Man, lots of reviews. I'm starting to think that I'll just comment on the reviews that really warrant comments, okay? Great._

_Until next time, whenever that may be,_

_-RoR_

_Please review._

_(9-11-14: some of you may be thinking, "But Rayneeeee, how can there be Arrancar if Aizen dieeeeeed and didn't transform theeeeeem? Good question, audience. The answer? I'm assuming that Aizen was making trips to Hueco Mundo before his big reveal. That way, he already had most of the Espada formed.)_

_(9-13-14: When I mentioned that some of you had weird pen names, IT WAS NOT A COMPETITION!)_

_(10-12-14: **BIG NEWS**: the next update for this story is going to be on 10-30-14. I have finished writing the next chapter but I'm still editing, and that _will _be the last chapter for at least two months. I'm grateful to all the support you guys give this story, and I hope you find even better stories to read in the meantime!)_

_(10-13-14: **Slightly less big news: **I've opened a poll in my profile as to whether I'll be updating _Rewind _or _Rift_ in the future. You guys should check it out and vote. It'll be open for a long, long time, but I figured the sooner the better to get more people's input.)_


	5. Chapter 5

A demonic weasel is following me. That's . . . nice.

* * *

Chapter 5

A small source of pride for me was that my pathway through the rip between worlds was as controlled and steady as Captain Unohana's had been the first time around, without flaking and falling apart. Those sporadic stepping-stones were a thing of the past (or the future). The path was a solid line, just wide enough for me to walk on it comfortably. I took my time, walking at a casual pace and talking with Zangetsu and the old man to see if they had any insight on what I should do about the arrancar that I hadn't already thought about.

Some things never changed, however. For example, emerging from the Garganta in mid-air, approximately one hundred meters above the sprawling sands of Hueco Mundo, was still a constant in my life. Even during the war, the chances of me actually getting into Hueco Mundo at ground level were next to none. That was mostly why people hadn't travelled with me.

_Dammit._

The fall wasn't particularly exciting, though I took some satisfaction in creating a giant crater in the sand when I landed, causing dust to go flying in all directions, borne aloft by whipping winds that cleared out a pretty respectable area. Stealth wasn't exactly my main objective; hell, I had done the least amount of planning for this adventure than I had done in years.

It felt good to wing something again.

Following along those lines, I let what Reiatsu I could access with my seal in place leak out. It would warn off stronger hollows and draw the attention of one that I was looking for in particular.

Las Noches squatted on the horizon like some kind of demented, twisted sun that was still dwarfed by the ever-present moon. I scowled just looking at it, remembering the hordes of hollows that had poured from its entryways the moment the Gotei 13 landed in Hueco Mundo in an attempt to push back Aizen.

It had been a slaughter, and I had only arrived in the last moments, just in time to see the last few Shinigami get cut down without mercy, their blood spraying in the air and landing in splatters on hollows' masks like macabre paintings.

**_"Oi, King, ya didn't come here t' sightsee an' feel sorry for yerself. Get a move on!"_**

Rolling my eyes, I began walking in the direction of Las Noches, stretching out my senses and searching for one signature in particular. I had no problem with taking my time; as far as I was concerned, I had all the time in the world. In the original timeline, I hadn't arrived in Hueco Mundo for a few more days at least. Theoretically, Aizen should've been in Las Noches already, but I was working under the impression that he had given his Espada a rough estimate (or no estimate at all) describing when he'd be back. He was a paranoid guy, despite his thou-and-the-world-shall-bow-to-me attitude.

After a few more hours of walking through the empty sands, occasionally seeing the oh-so-comforting crystalline tree, I materialized both of my Zanpakutō just because I found it weird to have a conversation and have nowhere to look. I was sure the three of us cut a strange picture; a man in a billowing black cloak, a boy in a ripped Shihakushō with two blades on his person, and an inverted copy of that boy all walking side-by-side.

**"He's coming," **Zangetsu growled, his yellow and black eyes staring accusingly at the sands ahead. He remembered this place as well as I did, and while Zangetsu enjoyed combat as much if not more so than Zaraki Kenpachi did, he'd had more than his fill during the war.

"What are you planning to do, Ichigo?" Old Man Zangetsu asked, glancing at me. I frowned slightly, my mind automatically slipping into a more focused state as I began to plan ahead.

"I need to meet with Ashido," I said, thinking aloud. "I won't let him sacrifice himself again, especially for such a pointless reason. He deserves peace after everything he's done and been through."

"I agree," Old Man Zangetsu said, giving me an approving look.

**"I gotta wonder how many hollow's the guy's actually killed."**

"Who knows?" I replied, glancing sideways at Zangetsu. The hollow shrugged, his expression saying _someone had to ask_. I blinked at him, still not entirely understanding him even after all these years, and then looked away.

Without needing to be asked, my Zanpakutō spirits returned to my inner world with the threat of the impending confrontation.

The Reiatsu I had been feeling for the past few minutes surged and a giant, towering figure made of white sand rose up in front of me, its head vaguely resembling a sand castle. I stared up at it, unconcerned.

"You are a trespasser," the giant pile of sand said, its voice reverberating throughout Hueco Mundo.

Really, how does a hollow made out of sand even _work_?

**_"Hell if I know."_**

_"Perhaps a hollows' intelligence is centered in its mask, rather than the rest of its body, so that the mind will still function as long as the mask is intact regardless of damage to the body."_

_Nice theory, Old Man, but there's a problem. Even if I slice his mask in half, it reforms, remember?_

Old Man Zangetsu went silent, and I knew he was sulking. As much as his reserved personality would allow him to sulk, anyway. I'd found out during the course of the war that the Old Man really liked to be right in his theories, and when he wasn't, he tended to withdraw from whatever conversation was being held and try to save face. It was amusing on some levels, actually.

"I will crush you, trespasser!" the hollow I knew to be Runuganga declared, raising one sandy fist. "You shall become nothing but sand in the wind!"

_He's not any better the second time around. At least I don't have to worry about Nel yet. Also, how does a fist made of sand not crumble? Wouldn't gravity overpower whatever's holding it together?_

Facing this guy a second time gave me far more time to wonder about things I hadn't bothered thinking about the first time, and I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The sand hollow's fist came crashing down and I made the bare minimum of effort required to dodge it, flickering just out of range of the shockwave via Flash Step. I was drawing Zangetsu before I even realized what I was doing, so used to adapting to a fight before registering that I was _in_ a fight.

_"Last time, you required the assistance of Rukia in order to defeat Runuganga. How are you planning on completing that task this time?"_

The old man had a point; Runuganga's weakness was water, and all Zangetsu had to offer were energy attacks. I had come to a solution, however, as soon as the sand hollow had appeared. A small smile pulled at my lips as I prepared myself.

_Defeating him is easy; I'll just do it with a hell of a lot of overkill._

Sheathing Zangetsu—the idea of sheathing my blade during a fight was strange, but I did it anyway—I began focusing, pulling my Reiryoku from the great ocean that existed inside me and directing it to my fingertips.

"Fool!" Runuganga declared, most likely sensing the buildup of my detectable Reiatsu. "Do not think that weak attacks like that will be able to harm me!"

"Don't think that my attacks are weak," I said, raising one hand and focusing further. Kidō wasn't my strong suit, but I'd used this particular spell countless times during the war. "Hadō number sixty-three, Raikōhō."

My Reiatsu burst from my extended hand in a roaring wave of yellow energy, perfectly formed and perfectly released in a way that would have earned even Byakuya's respect. It was almost like lightning in the way that it darted through the air, glowing and flickering.

_"I see your plan. It's ridiculous."_

_Your feedback has been noted, Old Man._

**_"Ya shoulda used a more powerful spell! Or a Getsuga Tenshō. Those woulda been more fun."_**

_There's a difference between overkill and wasteful, and I'm not here to have fun. Plus, a Getsuga __Tenshō would've just sliced right through him._

**_"Fine."_**

As the smoke from my attack cleared, I began to see the results of the devastating energy attack.

"Intense heat . . . " I said, examining my handiwork with a critical eye. "Combined with copious amounts of sand and enough energy to facilitate the change . . ."

Runuganga became visible, his body fused together and approaching translucent with a glossy shine courtesy of the solitary moon hanging overhead. It wasn't fully transparent at all, but it wasn't bad, all things considered.

"Produces glass."

_Or something close enough to it._

My attack hadn't been powerful enough to completely glass Runuganga's body; I didn't want all of Hueco Mundo to know that I was there, which was why I had foregone the incantation. It was enough, however, to completely incapacitate the hollow for as much time as I needed. It would take him weeks to recover, provided that enough weaker hollows passed by to provide him energy. It might even be enough to revert him back to a previous evolution.

If Runuganga had any parting words, I didn't care enough to listen. His body fell back, shattering into innumerable shards on impact with the ground and scattering the hollow throughout the sands in an explosion of dust. It would take him a long time to recover, if he did at all.

**_"And now . . . the fun part!"_**

_You only like the Menos Forest because I let you rampage there during the war._

**_"Yeah. Too bad they don't remember me now."_**

_They don't even know you. They haven't met you._

**_"Technicality."_**

With a roll of my eyes, I plunged Zangetsu into the sands, and fell.

* * *

Ashido was not challenging to find. His hideouts, while well hidden, were no match for my Shunido's speed and the accuracy of my Reiatsu senses. After half an hour of searching seemingly endless forest, I landed outside the cave opening where I sensed Ashido to be, and pulled on my authoritative persona, because if there was one thing that a lost and despairing Shinigami needed, it was someone telling him what to do.

"Ashido!" I said, knowing that my voice would reach him. "My name's Ichigo Kurosaki, and I need to talk to you."

Distant sounds reached my ears from inside the cave, and then I saw Ashido, his masks in place and looking like a hollow, looking at me from the dark, his blade drawn. His stance was defensive but tense; he clearly hadn't expected any company.

"Are you going to respond, Ashido, or am I going to stand here all day and let the hollows eat me?"

When Ashido spoke, his voice was rough with disuse but the confusion was still evident. "You aren't . . . a hollow?"

I scowled. "Of course not. Do I _look_ like a hollow to you, Shinigami? Now take off that mask. There's no place for it here."

Dumbly, Ashido complied, revealing his dark toned hair and even darker eyes. "How are you . . .?"

"How am I here? Good question. I've been put on a covert mission to bring you back to Soul Society."

Those words seemed to echo in the air, hanging around for much longer than normal. Ashido froze, his grip on his Zanpakutō tightening. "You cannot be serious. I still have so much to do; the reason I stay here is because I can stop hollows before they even reach the living world. I can't just abandon my mission."

Having been in a similar situation, I felt what was left of my empathy reach out towards Ashido, but I ignored it. "Your mission's over, Ashido. You're going back." I glanced into the forest, knowing that no hollows were able to sense my presence, and looked for a certain grave that I knew was in the distance. "Your comrades would understand."

Ashido's mouth worked, and I could tell that his thoughts were in chaos.

"Look, Ashido," I said, letting some of the weariness I normally kept hidden seep into my expression and tone. "You deserve rest. You've been working for several centuries, carrying the burden of the people you've lost without ever talking to someone else about your troubles."

My gaze hardened as I repeated myself. "You need to rest."

"I—" Ashido cut himself off, and then reconsidered. "I don't know if this is really . . . " He paused again, continued again. "Real."

I took a deep breath, remembering countless Shinigami that had told me that exact same thing on the battlefield. "I understand. Is there anything I can do to prove that this is really happening?"

"I'm not sure. My delusions . . . go on for months. I only know they're fake when I wake up."

_"The only way to help this man, Ichigo, is to send him to Soul Society, and hope that he comes to accept reality and make peace with his past."_

_I understand, Old Man._

"Listen, Ashido." He snapped to attention. "I will open a Senkaimon, and you will go through it."

"You won't?"

"No. I still have a mission on the surface desert."

"If there's anything you need to know, I could tell you."

I pressed down a flutter of dark amusement. "No, I'm fine. But I have one stipulation."

Ashido immediately become suspicious, and I got the feeling that his hallucinations had often revolved around a similar concept: so close to escape, only to be given a demand that was impossible to meet.

"Do not tell anyone in Soul Society that I sent you there."

Ashido was quiet for a moment, processing my words, before he spoke.

"Pardon my asking, but why?"

"I'm on a covert mission," I explained. "Need to know basis. I can't risk news of my job reaching the wrong ears. Even if you see me in Soul Society, I need you to act like you don't know me."

Ashido nodded slowly as he processed the information. "I understand."

The distant roars of hollows were a strange contrast to the sound of Zangetsu sliding into empty air. Ashido took in every second of my opening of the Senkaimon almost hungrily. It made sense, I supposed, since he had likely been hallucinating this moment for centuries, that he would want to commit every detail his memory.

Opening a Senkaimon without going through the official procedures was always strange, like forcing my Zanpakutō through a brick wall instead of the flexible barrier between the Dangai and the World of the Living. It wasn't too difficult, just awkward.

"You can make it without a Jigokuchō," I said. It was almost a question, but not quite. Nevertheless, Ashido nodded. "Good."

I twisted Zangetsu, the upper half of the blade hidden in the fold between worlds, and the shoji doors of the Senkaimon opened with a flourish.

I exchanged one last look with Ashido, and the expression on his face was so painful for me that I was the one to look away first, an experience I hadn't had in years.

And then he was gone, obscured by the light of the Senkaimon. It was fitting that Ashido, who had spent so long in the darkness of Hueco Mundo, got to leave Hueco Mundo through the blinding light of the shoji doors.

As the doors closed and the blinding light faded from Hueco Mundo, I felt a small fraction of the weight on my shoulders ease. It wasn't much, but anything was an improvement from the crushing responsibility the war had put on me. I didn't blame anyone for that; it was my fault I couldn't end Aizen earlier, after all. I hadn't been strong enough.

_"Do not be too hard on yourself. You did everything you could, and you are at least content."_

_As content as I'll ever be, Old Man. _

**_"Time for the Arrancar, King. Ya ready?"_**

_Yeah. _

Zangetsu thrummed, some of his bloodlust trickling into my mind.

**_"Ya know we're gonna kill most of 'em, right?"_**

Concern was not usually in Zangetsu's vocabulary, but he had a reason to be worried. Normally, if I were going to kill an opponent, I would fight them in a one-on-one battle.

I didn't have time for that; Soul Society would notice my absence from the World of the Living soon enough. Therefore, I would have to go with assassination, an art that Suì-Fēng had taught me during the war once the Arrancar had become too troublesome to deal with in an honorable battle.

That training had been one of the most arduous regimens I'd ever been through. Suì-Fēng didn't know the meaning of the word "mercy", and it carried over into everything she did. The results, however, were incredible, and the training had taught me to move silently and gracefully without even having to think about it.

At first, I had been hesitant about the assassinations. After all, it went against everything I had done up to that point. But Aizen forced my hand, as he had done time and time again, and I did what was necessary to save as many souls as I could.

_I know, Zangetsu. And I'm fine with it._

There was a tinge of dry humor in my next thought, the kind of sardonic words that were the only semblance of normalcy I had kept during the war. _Most of them were assholes, anyway._

During the war, a few of the Arrancar had defected from Aizen once he betrayed them. I intended to talk to those few, and others as well.

If everything went according to plan, I would leave Hueco Mundo in better shape than I'd found it.

If it all went according to plan. Which things never really did during the war. Kisuke had planned and planned and planned but Aizen had twisted things his way no matter how much we had tried to stop him.

Snapping myself out of those thoughts before my Zanpakutō could say anything, I took one last look around the Menos Forest and then shot forward, heading to the exit that Ashido had sacrificed himself to show me the first time I had been in the Menos Forest.

It was strange to think that Ashido was now in Soul Society.

All of this was strange.

And really, that was the whole damn point.

It took me a little over forty minutes to make the journey to Las Noches from where Ashido's route left me. This was largely because I had to make a pit stop where a very familiar Reiatsu was running around.

I stopped by a sand dune, ignoring the clouds of dust that drifted by on the chilly breeze. Instead, I focused on the noises of Hueco Mundo, searching for one in particular. I heard it soon enough: crying.

To be precise, wailing. In an extremely high-pitched tone of voice. Which was also obviously young.

A small smile twisted my lips.

Nel.

She'd been invaluable during the war on Aizen from the moment she joined with the Shinigami. Nel—in her adult form—was powerful, and more than capable of providing assistance and relief for battling Shinigami unused to the desert conditions of Hueco Mundo.

We'd spent a lot of time together, since I could no longer care for Yuzu and Karin. She'd taken their places, alternatively as a younger or older sister.

It was a strange experience, but our bond had only grown with the deaths of Pesche and Dondochakka. We protected each other.

So it had been like a physical blow to me when I had heard that she had fallen to Aizen while trying to cover the retreat of an overwhelmed Shinigami force.

That had been one of the worst days of my life; the world had shut down for me, and time dragged on like countless infinities. I remember freezing upon hearing the news, all thoughts of the war meeting I had been in fleeing my mind in an instant.

The only things that had stopped me from snapping were my Zanpakutō spirits; before my emotions could overwhelm me, they had stepped in, yanking me into my inner world and holding me back from the edge of insanity.

At that point, I had lost Karin and Yuzu, my father, Renji, Rukia, Chad, Uryū, and Orihime. Losing Nel broke me, and Aizen knew it. He had been targeting her for months, hunting her down so that she had always been forced to run.

But Nel wouldn't abandon helpless troops, so she'd stayed. And Aizen had cut her down.

At least her death had been quick.

_"Ichigo."_

Old Man Zangetsu's voice brought me back from the painful memories, and I refocused on the present.

Seeing the young Nel sprinting over a sand dune, Pesche and Dondochakka and Bawabawa all chasing her while she laughed and cried sent a pang through my chest. I resolved to take Nel to Orihime as soon as this was over so that she wouldn't have to be stuck as a child any longer.

Nel had confessed to me during the war that being a child had been wonderful, but she had been greatly saddened by the burden she had put on her caretakers.

At least I could help her now. And really, if I wanted to stay sane, I needed to think that that was all that mattered.

Saving her now meant saving her from everything that could happen. Everything that I knew.

There was no way I wasn't going to do it.

Taking I deep breath, I called out, "Hey!"

Nel, Pesche, and Dondochakka stopped, but Bawabawa kept going. Immediately, I darted forward, scooping up Nel's toddler form and depositing her a little ways away as Pesche and Dondochakka were hidden in an explosion of sand.

Nel's washed-out brown eyes were wide as she slowly turned to look up at me, her green hood falling back as she did so to reveal her cracked hollow mask.

"Who—who're you?"

I blinked slowly, and then looked up at Pesche and Dondochakka. Well, the visible parts of them that weren't buried beneath Bawabawa, anyway.

"Why were you chasing her?" I asked, pointing at Nel. It was an innocent question, and one that would hopefully set things up to go smoothly.

"We was playin et—eter—eternal tag!" Nel said, beaming.

"Then why were you crying?"

"Oh, well Nel's a maso—masa-kissed. That makes it alright!"

Despite it being the second time I'd heard it, I still found myself rounding on Pesche. "The hell are you teaching this kid?" I said, scowling. Pesche offered no response, instead choosing to free himself from Bawabawa.

And then, before anyone could say anything, I crouched down in front of Nel.

"What's your name?"

"Nel."

"Are you an Arrancar?"

She beamed, pointing to the crack in her mask. "Yup! Nel's a bona-fide Arrancar!"

I had never managed to figure out exactly why Nel referred to herself in the third person when in her toddler form. As an adult, she had carefully avoided answering that question and, frankly, it frustrated me to a great degree.

"Okay. Nel, do you know what I am?"

She pushed out one lip, examining me with the seriousness only a child could pull off. "Well, you've got th robe thingies that th Thinigami wear . . . an a big thword on your back . . . "

She suddenly made the connection and leaped back, one finger pointing at me in an accusing manner as if I'd done something horribly wrong. "Y—you're a Thinigami!"

"Oh no, he's going to kill us!" Pesche said, rushing in front of Nel to protect her from me. Dondochakka followed suit, his oversized face only making the scene look even more ridiculous.

"Technically I'm only a substitute," I said, shrugging and trying not to let my irritation show on my face. It had taken far too long for Nel's "brothers" to get near any semblance of normalcy. "And I'm not going to kill you. If I'd wanted to do that, I would've done it already."

"That doesn't help, don'tcha know."

After Dondochakka had spoken, the three hollows leaped into a small group and began to talk amongst themselves. I could hear what they were saying easily, but pretended not to. After all, they needed to get their extreme paranoia out of their system. Of course, considering that Shinigami _were_ supposed to purify hollows like them and send them to Soul Society they had a perfectly logical base for that paranoia.

That didn't make it any less irritating.

"Hey mithter!" Nel called, her expression entirely too innocent as she turned to face me, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her heels.

"Yeah?"

"Thince you're here, you thould pway games with me!"

"And if I—"

As expected, Nel leaped at me before I could complete the thought, clearly intending to alight on my shoulder, grab Zangetsu, and make off with the blade like she had done the first time around.

This time, however, I stopped her by stepping to one side and grabbing the back of her clothes as she flew past me. She hung in the air, evidently shocked into immobility.

"Oh no!" Pesche whispered in something much louder than a whisper. "He caught on to our unbeatable plan!"

"Your plan isn't unbeatable if I could figure it out," I said, still holding on to Nel. She began struggling, saying,

"Lemme go! Lemme go!"

I glanced down at her. "Are you going to try and steal my sword again?"

She waited a split second too long in saying "no".

"Then I'm not letting you go."

Nel began pouting, managing to look strangely adorable and immensely frustrated at the same time. It was something only toddlers could pull off.

"Look, you guys," I said, still holding Nel. "I get that you're scared of me because I'm a Shinigami. But I'm not here to kill you."

"Eh?" Pesche said, frozen halfway through the motion of running at me, presumably to try and free Nel.

"You heard me right. I'm not here to kill you; in fact, I'm going to Las Noches because there's some people I need to talk to there."

"Why would you want to go to Las Noches?" Pesche asked. He sounded distinctly wary, and he kept glancing at Nel. "There are bad people there."

"I know," I said, setting Nel down since she had stopped moving. She simply stood there, eyes wide as she listened to the conversation. "That's why I'm going."

"Y—you're gonna kill them, aren't you, mithter?" Nel asked, looking at me with wide eyes. My gaze softened when I looked at her as memories of times long past—or not passed yet—filled my memory.

"Not all of them." I looked up at Pesche and Dondochakka. "But I am going after Nnoitra."

Nel's guardians immediately stiffened.

"How do you know about that?" Pesche said, only to immediately clamp his hands over his mouth. That gesture seemed a bit pointless, considering his mask jutted out far past where his mouth actually was.

"Let's just say I have my ways," I said, glancing back down at Nel. "Anyway, after I go to Las Noches, I'll play with you. Is that okay, Nel?"

Her eyes go so wide so quickly I wondered if it was possible for it to be painful. Then she was nodding, her head bobbing up and down as she latched onto my leg.

"YETH! Mithter's gonna pway wit me!"

"_After_ I go to Las Noches," I added, trying to keep my voice gentle. Really, I was trying to stem the flow of annoyance from having Nel latched onto my leg. She'd done it so often in the future that I had started throwing her across the army camps whenever she did it. It made walking way harder than it needed to be and completely ruined any air of authority I tried to give off.

Nel pouted for a moment but then let go, allowing me to walk away.

Of course, I only got three steps before I felt something latch onto my back and wrap around my throat. I barely stopped myself from reacting, and instead took a deep breath.

"Nel, what did I say?"

"I'm comin with you!" Nel declared, tightening her grip on me. It was a strange sort of piggyback ride, and the memories it brought up made me flinch. Luckily, I covered it up with a sigh. "You're gonna pway with me!"

"If Nel is going with you, then we are too!" Pesche said, all but appearing next to me, Dondochakka not far behind.

"Great," I muttered. "Just great. Well, I guess I might as well get something out of the way, especially because you three are going to need to know it so you don't freak out at the wrong moment."

"Fweak out about what?" Nel asked, shifting on my back and almost falling off.

"I know you're going to laugh," I said, waving one hair in the air in a nonchalant manner, "but I'll say it anyway." I began walking again, turning away from Pesche and Dondochakka. "I'm from the future."

There was a moment of complete silence with only the wind rustling the sand filling the air.

And then Pesche began laughing.

"From the future? Whoo, good joke! Really had me goin there! Ha . . . from the future. Whew. Man, I needed that."

I kept walking.

"Wait, you aren't serious, are you? Hey, I'm talking to you! Don't ignore me, Mr. High-and-Mighty!"

In the back of my mind, I hoped that Pesche wouldn't teach Nel the nickname he'd given me in the future—Mr. Ham. An acronym, of course, for Mr. High-and-Mighty. It had been incredibly irritating, but no matter what I had done Pesche just kept calling me it. There wasn't much I had been capable of doing to him that wouldn't draw Nel's ire, which I typically tried to avoid.

"I said I knew you were going to laugh." I kept my voice calm and without inflection. "And every word I said is true." I glanced back at Pesche, my eyes narrowing dangerously. "Why do you think I, a Shinigami, knew about Nnoitra?"

That stopped Pesche in his tracks, and I knew he was looking at Nel, probably checking to see if that name rang any of the child's metaphorical bells. Unfortunately, Nel was too busy playing with the bandage on the sheath of Zangetsu. Needless to say, the Zanpakutō spirit of that sword was less than pleased with that development.

**_"Oi, pipsqueak, get yer dirty hands off!"_**

"What are you saying?" Pesche asked, suddenly serious. The guy was almost as unpredictable as my father when it came to moods.

"I know what happened with Nel," I said. "And I have a friend that can fix her mask."

**_"Is that snot? Fucking hell, it is! Get yer grubby fingers away from—that's absolutely disgustin. King, if ya don't do somethin I'm manifestin and kickin this kid across the desert!"_**

_"You will do no such thing."_

"Really? One of your friends can help Nel?"

"Yeah. She'll be happy to do it."

**_"King, ya bastard! No, ya pint-sized demon! Don't spit on—fuck. Why is it—ya know what? I don't even want to know. Fuck this. Fuck you, Nel, and fuck you, King. Yer all assholes."_**

_"Noted."_

**_"Why aren't _****you_ doin anythin?"_**

_"Because your discomfort is not my concern. Quit complaining."_

**_"Only if you get Nel to stop slobbering on me like there's no damn tomorrow!"_**

_Deal with it, wimp. Plus, her saliva's got healing properties. You're fine._

**_"I ain't injured, King!"_**

Zangetsu continued his rant in my mind, mentioning things that even I wouldn't say aloud. After a few seconds, I tuned him out in favor of focusing on the hollows in front of me.

"We are going to Las Noches!" Pesche declared, striking a completely pointless heroic pose. Dondochakka followed suit, and I blinked, caught off guard by how ridiculous they were.

It had been so long since I'd dealt with anything like it.

And it was still. So. Annoying.

"We can ride on Bawabawa!" Nel shouted.

Right in my ear.

"Great," I said. "Nel, don't shout in my ear."

**_"Tell her ta stop playin with me while yer at it."_**

_No._

**_"Asshole."_**

Five minutes later, I found myself riding on Bawabawa towards Las Noches. The similarity was making my chest ache as I remembered the first time I had done this. At least this time, Pesche and Dondochakka were considerably less hostile than they had been. Nel spent the entire journey crawling all over me, alternatively messing with the blade across my back and the one sheathed at my waist.

Eventually, once Old Man Zangetsu began "advising" me to stop Nel, I distracted the tenacious toddler by inviting her to play "I Spy" with Pesche and Dondochakka. Luckily for me, the two were more than willing to indulge Nel despite the fact that Hueco Mundo was the definition of a barren landscape, and Nel didn't really care as long as there was _something_ she could point out.

Las Noches came quickly, and soon Pesche, Dondochakka, and I were leaving Bawabawa at the gates and walking into the imposing structure. Nel was clinging to my back, her fingers digging into my skin. She'd stopped playing with Zangetsu a while ago, but that was only because Nel had been far more fascinated with my hair. The whole fiasco had only stopped when Pesche distracted Nel with a game of rock-paper-scissors.

"So," Pesche said, waltzing up next to me as we walked through a few grand hallways. The way he was trying to be sneaky pained me to see, so I tried to avoid looking at him. "You got a 'master plan'? Some ingenious plot to take down the baddest of the bad? Something with coolness and style?" The way he said "style" made me want to punch him, but I pushed down the urge and kept walking.

"Sure."

_Zangetsu, I'll need your help carrying._

**_"Fuckin fantastic. Lemme guess: I get Dondochakka."_**

_Yeah._

**_"Fine."_**

"Pesche," I said, my voice mild, "try not to yell."

"Eh?"

Before Pesche could say anything else, Zangetsu materialized behind Dondochakka and grabbed him while I grabbed Pesche and told Nel to hold on tight. A moment later Zangetsu and I were speeding through the halls of Las Noches, bypassing the security and heading to one destination in particular. The hallways were nothing more than blurs and I knew that I was going too quickly for any hollow to track my movements, no matter how smart that hollow could be.

_Hey, Old Man, do you think she's as accepting as she was during the war?_

_"She did not change her values during the war. If you appeal to what she believes is right, there should be no conflict."_

In less time than it had taken Pesche to begin to protest his treatment, I had arrived where I wanted to be. The hollows were unceremoniously dumped on the ground save Nel, who was still clutching my back with her eyes and mouth wide open as she whispered "cooooooooooooooool".

Dondochakka and Pesche, stunned and nauseated from the sudden speed, couldn't do much of anything besides lie limply on the ground as I knocked on the door. They were unable to do much more than groan.

A cold voice answered my knock with one word:

"Enter."

I pushed open the door, threw Pesche inside and then leaned to one side as Zangetsu followed suit with Dondochakka. The pair's obnoxiously bright colors contrasted heavily with the muted gray tones of the room, but I wasn't focusing on them. Instead, I was focusing on the arrancar standing on the opposite side of the room. There was little emotion in her eyes, and the collar of her jacket prevented me from seeing any real expression on her face. She wasn't even showing surprise or irritation at having two hollows tossed into her room without any warning.

Tier Harribel looked no different than I remembered. She had always been incredibly talented at hiding her emotions, and no one lived to describe what she was like when she was truly angry or upset.

When her Fracción had died, she had wiped out the entirety of Aizen's forces on the battlefield before collapsing from the numerous fatal wounds that she had sustained during the fighting.

Her loyalty was commendable, as well as her desire to protect those weaker than her. Tier Harribel also had her own version of honor, which was one of the reasons I had chosen to go to her first out of all the Arrancar.

That, and I needed somewhere to dump Nel so that she wouldn't get in the way while I was dealing with the other Arrancar. Hopefully, Tier would cooperate and there wouldn't be any problems. Otherwise, I was going to have to improvise. It would be . . . awkward if Nel were to die. Awkward and the end of the Arrancar.

"Who are you?" The third Espada asked, her eyes sliding between Zangetsu and me. "And why are you here?"

"You're not acting very hostile," I said by way of response. Tier blinked.

"You have made no move to attack me, your weapons are sheathed, and you have not attempted to ambush me from any point other than my door. If there is an attack imminent, I am fully confident that you will die before you can realize your mistake."

Luckily, Zangetsu didn't say anything, though he did roll his eyes. Tier didn't miss that, however, and I quickly stepped in before she could misinterpret anything.

"Look, you're Tier Harribel, right?"

Her icy eyes bore into mine but mine had hardened to steel long ago and I stared back unflinchingly.

"Yes, I am," she said, crossing her arms under her chest. "I am Tier Harribel, the third Espada. Care to tell me why you are searching for me?"

"I need your help," I replied, trying to convey that I was being honest. It was more difficult than I cared to admit. Tier's eyes narrowed.

"My help?" She looked me up and down without moving her head. "But you are a Shinigami. Why would you seek help from hollows?" Her voice grew colder. "And how did you get in this place without being killed?"

"I have my ways. And before you get worried, I'm not going to go after your Fracción either."

Tier immediately tensed and her Reiatsu rose, causing Pesche and Dondochakka to whimper pathetically. Nel, on the other hand, held onto me even more tightly and peeked up over my shoulder, trembling only a little as she stared at the third Espada.

Immediately upon seeing Nel, Tier's Reiatsu vanished and her eyes returned to me.

"What is this? Why do you have a child with you?"

"Not just a child," I said. Zangetsu grinned, reaching out and tapping Nel's cracked mask fragment.

**"The little brat's an arrancar."**

"That's not possible. Aizen would not create a child arrancar," Tier said. She then directed a question at Nel. "What is your name?"

Nel shrunk behind me again, and I sighed. "She's shy," I explained. "One more thing, while you're listening and not thinking about ways to try and kill me. Aizen's dead."

Those words still felt so indescribably good when I said them aloud.

Less than a second after I said the words, the air in the room seemed to thicken.

"Aizen is dead?" Tier repeated, clearly surprised despite how composed she kept her features. I nodded.

"Yes. I killed him with my own hands."

Tier's eyes narrowed. "Admitting such a thing in front of one of his subordinates is dangerous, Shinigami."

"Did you really like him that much?" I asked, recalling times during the war when the surviving Espada had reminisced about their time under Aizen and the different experiences they'd had. Tier was grateful to Aizen for giving her the power to protect her Fracción, but the moment they had been threatened her loyalty was swayed.

"I owe him my loyalty for allowing me to protect my Fracción," Tier said, mirroring the memories in my mind. "But you are avoiding my question. You have asked me for my help, without answering my question as to why you would do such a thing. Why would a Shinigami seek assistance from a hollow? Especially knowing that you would be attacked for killing our leader."

"You won't attack me," I said calmly. Tier's eyes narrowed.

"What's stopping me?"

Her Reiatsu was rising again. It was lucky that I'd placed a barrier Kidō outside earlier, or the other Espada might have been alerted that something was amiss.

"No!"

Nel hopped off my shoulder and landed in front of Tier, stumbling only a little bit before recovering her balance and pointing an accusing finger at the blonde Espada in front of her. Zangetsu began to take a step forward, but then he glanced at me and stopped.

"Nel's name is Nel!" Nel declared, apparently still behind on the topic of conversation. "And Nel doesn't want you to hurt Itsygo!" Or not.

"You've got to be kidding me," I deadpanned. "She's saying it wrong in the exact same way."

"It-sy-go?" Tier repeated slowly, and I had to refrain from rolling my eyes at hearing my butchered name come from Tier's mouth. Her gaze slowly turned to me. "Is that your name, Shinigami?"

"It's Ichigo Kurosaki. Not what Nel said."

"I see." Tier turned back to Nel. The young arrancar was still pointing at the Espada. "Why are you protecting this Shinigami?"

"Nel's protecting Itsygo because Itsygo protected Nel! And Itsygo promised to play with Nel after! So you can't hurt him, meanie!"

Tier blinked, caught off-guard by Nel's childishness. It was amusing to see, especially since Tier and Nel had been close friends during the war.

"He . . . protected you. But you are a Shinigami, boy. What do you have to gain from protecting hollows?"

I shrugged. "Allies and friends. Plus, I'd rather not have most of you wiped out when the Gotei Thirteen comes calling. They're going to figure out that Aizen was creating Espada soon enough, and I can make sure that they don't act on that knowledge."

"You would betray your own people?"

Nel was looking between Tier and I, totally lost, and her hand slowly dropped back to her side as she realized that I wasn't in immediate danger.

**"Don't make assumptions," **Zangetsu said, grinning. **"Technically, we aren't Shinigami."**

Tier's eyes flashed. "Your Reiatsu—I know that feeling. You are a hollow."

Zangetsu's grin widened. **"Guilty as charged, lady."**

"Look," I said, interrupting the two most powerful hollows in the room. "Tier, you're going to have questions. I'll answer them later, after I talk to some of the other Espada. I'm trying to make Las Noches and the upper echelons of hollows a better place, and I need to do it quickly. In the meantime, I need to know if you're willing to be my ally."

"Why would you ask such a question when you have given me no reason to say yes?"

I glanced down at Nel, then back up to Tier. "Well, someone has to watch her. Pesche and Dondochakka are terrible guardians."

Pesche said a weak protest, but I ignored it. Those two couldn't even shake off their nausea in all the time they'd had to do so.

"You're implying that I should be a babysitter."

"Pretty much."

Tier's eyes closed for a minute, and I let her think in silence. I knew where her thoughts were going; she was analyzing everything I'd done since I'd arrived and trying to see if I meant what I had said.

After what felt like hours of quiet, Tier opened her eyes. I hadn't moved the entire time, and neither had Zangetsu, though Nel had resumed her position on my back at one point only to be removed by Zangetsu one she started playing with the hilt of my cleaver blade.

"I will assist you in this regard, Shinigami," Tier said. "But I will do nothing else until you provide me with more information. Do something that I do not agree with, and the consequences will be dire."

"That's all I needed to hear. I'll be holding a meeting in the throne room in a while; I'll tell you everything then."

I began to turn around, only to be stopped by Nel's voice. Tier watched the exchange, her posture as rigid as a statue but promising death all the same.

"You're still gonna pway wit me, right, Itsygo?" She asked, her eyes wide. I smiled softly and crouched down, patting Nel's head.

"Of course, Nel. I promised to, didn't I? And I always keep my word."

The lie was like acid on my tongue, but I forced it out. It was enough to satisfy Nel, who, pacified, watched me leave the room without moving.

Zangetsu followed me out, and he only spoke once I closed the door.

**"That coulda gone better, King."**

"I know."

My inner hollow scoffed, glancing down the hallway before turning back to me, his golden eyes flashing.

**"Who's next, anyway?"**

I turned, looking at a certain spot in the distance where I sensed a particular Reiatsu; it was one that was familiar and yet so distant at the same time.

"I'm sure you can guess."

* * *

_A/N So yeah. I know most of you were probably looking forward to Ulquiorra or Grimmjow (however you spell it), but you'll have to wait. Sorry._

_Yes. This story is now OFFICIALLY ON HOLD. Please do not, I repeat, _please_ do **not** review with "please update". This is all I have written for this story and with school I am quite literally incapable of updating again anytime soon. I'm sure you guys can find something else to comment on._

**_Reviews:_**

**_Rosco Peeko Trane: _**_the Arrancar were created via the Hogyoku. Aizen was making trips to Hueco Mundo even before he made his defection obvious, so the Espada were all created before he left._

**_jcampbellohten: _**_I'm guessing you inferred my age from my complaining about high school. Ah, whatever. You're not too far off._

**_I plead the 5th: _**_nice, informative comment. Really, I just like the name you picked._

**_Guest:_**_ The Hogyoku was obliterated in Ichigo's attack. (before any of you go "but nobody could destroy it blah blah blah", Ichigo's way stronger than you think. He can destroy it. If you've got a problem with that, think, "does it _really matter_ in the grand scheme of things?" The answer is no.)_

**_Phantom Claire: _**_You know, I'm not entirely sure what you're asking. Assuming you're asking who Ichigo had sex with, that's not my place to say._

**_QueenOfDirt: _**_Nothin' to say on your review, but I like your name. Your kingdom must be utterly magnificent._

_If you've got any questions that you don't think a review would cover, feel free to PM me. Otherwise, I'd be happy to see your feedback on this story since it might inspire me to write more during my break. If you're a writer on this site, you'll know how great it feels to get reviews on your stories._

_-RoR_

**_Please review._**

**_(_Please_.)_**


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